


99 More Problems...

by xikra1648



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, But it’s the BatFam, Character Death, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, I CANNOT stress that last one enough, Language, Nothing too detailed at the moment, Oneshot booklet, Preferences and Imagines, Rating Likely to Change, Reader Death, Recently changed rating from T to M, Referenced Smut, Romance, Smut, So it’s temporary, gif links, older!Damian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-19 19:51:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 47,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12416976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xikra1648/pseuds/xikra1648
Summary: Because the boys didn't have enough problems, you come along and give them even more.Basically 'The Batboys Have 99 Problems...' but with Reader-Inserts, preferences, and the occasional request.





	1. Preferences: Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Requests are open, and I will get to them ASAP between school, work, and my other stories.

# Preferences

### First Meetings

 

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

Business parties, you hated business parties.  This was the first time your parents had ever dragged you along to one, but you already hated them.  You had to put on a fancy dress that always itched like the Dickins, your shoes were uncomfortable, you absolutely _abhorred_ tights, your hair was tied into an uncomfortable up do and practically _glued_ in place.  Then there were the people that wanted to talk to you endlessly.

You may have only been sixteen, but this was cruel and unusual punishment.  You _knew_ it.  Your only solace was the fact you had long since outgrown the days everyone else would pinch your cheeks and speak to you like some imbecilic infant.

You wanted to go home, rip yourself free of the itchy _thing_ you had been wrestled into, and never return.  That was unlikely, however, as the event was hosted by Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne’s had been close with your own family long before Dr. and Mrs. Wayne’s unfortunate demise.  Now that Bruce was leading the company, it was no different.  You were going to be stuck there until everyone else left, and if you weren’t a perfect little angel you’d be in _so_ much trouble with your mother.  You couldn’t even go and find your father, he took off to take care of business and left you with your mother.

It struck you as a tad odd, you had never met Bruce, but you hadn’t even been born when his parents were murdered and upon his return and takeover of the family company you were already sixteen.  The girls in your class were all jealous, it was inevitable you were going to meet the handsome and charming 22-year-old Prince of Gotham.  As excited as you should have been…

You really just wanted to go home and keep tinkering on that project on your workshop table.  You had practically glued yourself to the same spot on the sidelines, after you quickly figured out sitting at one of the tables would only result in more people coming to talk to you.  It was the world’s _worst_ kept secret you were wildly intelligent, some of the latest inventions your father’s company had patented were direct results of your own work.  That never once stopped your mother from _forcing_ you into dance lessons from the day you turned five, you were going to be the perfect little princess if she had to force you into that mold.

Which was exactly what she was going to have to do, seeing as you had spent the last _hour_ in your own head trying to work through the latest hurdle of your little project at home.  Lucky for you, your mother was distracted by the open bar and a waiter that _had_ to be only four or five years older than you.  It wasn’t until your father approached that you were brought out of your head, mostly because Bruce Wayne was with him.  That meant one thing:

You had a chance to show off the fact you _weren’t_ just some pretty face.  Your father might look at you as a way to stay ahead, something to make his company more money, but it was better than the trollop your mother wanted you to be.  If you had to pick between genius to be used or trollop to be married off, you’d pick genius every time.

After the basic introductions, handshakes, and small-talk, Bruce finally brought it up.

“Your father mentioned you might be able to help out with a project my R&D team is working on upstairs, mind taking a look?”  He didn’t miss the fire that caught in your eyes.  He’d been keeping a close eye on everyone at the party, and you had looked particularly _dead inside_ until that very moment.

“I’d _love_ to.”

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

Ho-lee crap.

Sure, the Arrow Cave was cool and being Black Canary’s protégé you could stop by any time you wanted, but the Batcave was about a _million_ times cooler.

It also made a hell of a lot more sense than an _Arrow Cave._

Then there was the car, and the jet, and the bike, and the computer…Batman just had _all_ the cool stuff.  At first you weren’t too keen on teaming up with Batman and Robin when the investigation crossed into one of their own, the Bat had taken more than one investigation out from Ollie’s hands and you weren’t about to let that happen _this time_ -but neither was Dinah.

You were perched on the railing surrounding the walkway of one of the many platforms in the Batcave as Dinah spoke with her colleague.  You would have _liked_ to be part of the conversation, but being 11 you were well aware the chances of that were slim so you settled for waiting patiently.  Well, as patiently as you could.  You hung upside-down by your knees to get another look at the cave, only to meet the masked face of 14-year-old Robin.  You had never officially met, but it was _Robin_ , the _legendary_ sidekick that could probably take off and do his own thing by now.

You had no idea he snuck up on you like that and lost your balance, falling the few feet to the metal platform below you.  The only thing injured in your fall was your _dignity_ , but embarrassing yourself in front of your celebrity crush was humiliating.

“You alright?” he asked, though he couldn’t keep himself from laughing as he held a gloved hand out for you.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay…” you brushed off a little too quickly, your voice an octave too high, before taking his hand and letting him pull you up to your feet with ease.  You immediately took off towards the Batcomputer, remaining glued to Dinah’s side the rest of the night.

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

Technically the two of you met at school, but being a grade apart you never really spoke to each other.  Hell, he was off the Gotham Academy campus the _second_ the last bell rang while you would stick around the library for a few hours before going home.  The first time the two of you _really_ met was at one of the many Wayne Enterprises research labs that dotted the network of Gotham City.  This particular lab specialized in security, and there was a particular program you could easily repurpose to make the hobby you shared with your mentor, Selina Kyle, much easier.

That was entirely why she picked you up in the first place, you were a genius who had actually _been_ certified by Gotham Academy, that was how you got into the school for free in the first place.  Being a kid off the streets of Gotham, there was no other way you’d make it.

You had been in the field before, but you were never suited up with a mask and all.  You were always in civilian clothes, working in the background until now.  It was for the best, considering part of the job was being a flirty and coy little shit and you had just recently turned 16, old enough to shamelessly flirt with Batman’s new sidekick-whom Selina had taken to calling _Angry Bird._   You had seen him around school, Selina had taken the liberty of sharing Batman’s identity and from there it was a simple conclusion who Robin was, and based on what you had seen the boy kept his distance as a rule of thumb.

Simply put, flirting your way out of trouble was going to be easier than it should be.  There was no need to put the narcotic lip-seal that glossed your lips to use, once he was separated from the bat you spun on the ball of your foot and put your charms to work.  Trailing a finger along his chest before playing with his mop off dark hair, the boy was frozen in place and staring down at you with wide eyes lined in a mask.  Your lips turned upwards in a smirk, holding your prized painting behind your back as the bird’s sharp blue eyes watched you and lost all conception of the painting’s existence.  You didn’t need to kiss him to knock him out, you probably could have just skulked your way across the rooftop and into the night, and he’d still be frozen there by the time you got home.

You did it for kicks…and because he was cute.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

You loved college, probably too much to be healthy considering your favorite part was the classes themselves.  You loved being in an environment where critical thinking and questions were encouraged, and the only time the statement ‘because I said so’ was applicable had to do with whether or not the course textbook counted towards the required number of sources for a paper.  Then again, as a Pre-Law major attending Gotham University on an academic scholarship, it was inevitable you were going to be _that_ person getting kicked out of the library because it had to close.

That was how you ended up walking down a Gotham street at two in the morning…probably not your best move but seeing as you were from Metropolis it was easy to file it under ‘newbie mistake.  Sure, there were good universities in Metropolis but they were all so focused on sports they missed the chance to be anything like Gotham University, which had recently replaced the old stadium for the Wayne Library and Research Center.  Everyone was so focused on studying, nobody really cared about sports.

None of that changed the fact that Gotham was a cesspool of crime and homicidal clowns, and walking around at two in the morning was just _asking_ to be attacked.

Pinned back against the cold brick wall lining the dark alley, a dirty hand over your mouth as the creep ran his hand up your shirt and his friends held your arms back you squeezed your eyes shut as the tears rolled down your cheeks.  You heard a voice, a familiar one, but in shutting yourself inwards to shield yourself it seemed distant.  You barely noticed as the dirty hands were ripped off of you, allowing you to crouch down and burry your face in your knees.

It was pure luck that brought Tim down that street, the night had been quiet and Bruce insisted Tim return to the dorm so he could get _some_ sleep before class.  It was the crying that caught his attention more than the hushed threats, though those certainly caught his attention as well.  Suit or not, he had to help you, _immediately_.  It didn’t take much to pry the men off of you, even less to chase them off, but Tim didn’t pay any mind to that.  He was more focused on making sure you were alright.

“Hey,” he spoke softly as he kneeled down in front of you, keeping enough distance to keep from scaring you, “It’s alright, you’re safe now.”

You looked up, makeup a mess and eyes red and swollen from crying, and recognized the boy in front of you.  He was in your Political Science class and he was brilliant, but, being the shy little nerd you were, it was _impossible_ for you to gather the courage to talk to him-no matter how much you wanted to.  You sniffled a bit, unwrapping yourself from the ball you had curled into so you could begin picking up your books.  He helped, stopping to look at one in particular for a brief moment before tucking it and the others he had picked up under his arm and standing to help you up and walking you home.

 


	2. Preferences: The First Fall

# Preferences

### The First Fall

 

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

As cliché as it sounded, you fell first.  It wasn’t some instantaneous fall, at the very least, but it had taken time.  Then again, most of that was simply because you had not seen each other in years.  You had been working with the Research and Development team of your father’s company, specifically in the Star City office, since you received your PhD.  It was years until you officially returned to Gotham, your father’s health making it impossible for him to run the family business and leaving you to make most of the decisions.  That was when you wished you spent more time studying business than science and technology, but it was a bit late for that.

It was a gala you _had_ to attend and represent the family business, you couldn’t leave it all to your mother, and you hated it just as much as you did when you were young.  One snob after another approached you and tried to carry a conversation, forced you into one was more like, until you found yourself whisked away onto the dance floor before you even knew what happened.  You were about to tell off the man that had pulled you along with him without asking, until you looked up into gray-blue eyes you hadn’t seen in _years_.

“Sorry for the abrupt interruption, but it looked like you were about to snap,” Bruce teased lightly, expertly coaxing you into a practiced waltz before you even noticed you were moving.

“I’ll have you know I may still be a furious bundle of sarcasm and inappropriate humor, but I have control of it.  I am a _lady_ after all.”  You feigned offense, knowing full well the man had a damn good reason to be concerned.  After the first two times your parents brought you along to a socialite gathering when you were sixteen, it didn’t take long for your sharp tongue to earn you a reputation despite how young you were.  By the end of that first party you were telling off everyone who expected you to turn into the gold-digging snob your mother was, or the overly-competitive jackass your father was.  You always had a way of making Bruce let loose an honest laugh, or at least an honest smile, and years later it seemed that was no different.

Years away made you realize just how special that trait was.  You knew Bruce was closed off, distant, the whole playboy thing was just to keep from letting anyone too close.  You played a very similar game, but choosing the roll of the cold genius with a snarky comment for everything first.  With your father’s ailing health, his death only following a few weeks behind the party, it wasn’t a secret you were planning on selling the company and Wayne Enterprises was your first pick.

Entirely because you were going to offer your services to the R&D department of whichever company bought your father’s, but Bruce’s laugh and that smile were making your reasons a _bit_ more personal.  Being held by him just felt so natural, it was like a scene in some cliché romance movie and you loved every moment of it.

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

Technically you fell first, but seeing as it was a childhood crush you eventually got over he was really the one that fell first.  You had long since left Dinah’s side and made your new name as Nightingale, a strong and intimidating woman with skills ranging from archery to old-fashioned ass kicking and riding a bike better than Dick ever could.

The two of you bumped into each other in the middle of your own investigations, which led you to the same spot.  Anyone with more than a day of experience in the masked hero knew it wasn’t a coincidence.  Grabbing what you needed, the two of you took off with plans to meet at your cheap motel room after Dick changed and grabbed what he found in his own investigation.

You opened the door to let him in, his hair still damp from a shower and looking like he just threw on his jeans and t-shirt.  You locked the door behind him, padding across the dirty carpet in your mismatched fluffy socks, before sitting back onto the queen-sized bed with everything you gathered along with your laptop.  You sat at the head of the bed, leaving Dick to sit next to you and lay out what he had found.

Dick shifted, finding a more comfortable position, and winced.  The day before he had to stich up a wound on his side, and even with all of his practice it was near impossible to do so.  You noticed, immediately snapping your attention away from the investigation and turning directly to Dick.  You grabbed the duffle with your medical kit from under the bed and ordered him to show you the wound.

He did, stripping his shirt and raising his arm, allowing you to get a view of the stitches.  You skootched closer to him, and lightly trailed your fingers over the stitching before reaching into your bag and pulling what you needed.  He stayed still as you carefully removed the stitching and cleaned the wound again before stitching it with a much neater hand.  Perhaps it was experience, the fact that the day-old wound wasn’t nearly as tender as it was when he fumbled to stitch it up, or something you applied to numb the pain, but being stitched back up wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as it normally was.  You took such care as well, your eyes softening as you focused.

He had a thing for you, you were gorgeous and strong, but he had never seen _this_ side of you.  This soft and caring side.  When you were finished, you covered the stitches neatly in clean gauze and looked up at Dick, eyeing a small cut on his cheekbone just under where his mask sat.  You gently kept Dick from moving his head by keeping the tips of your fingers just under his chin.  He was completely enraptured with you in that moment, while you were focused on making sure he was alright and dabbing at the small cut.

In that cheap motel, in pajamas and mismatched fluffy socks as you cared for a colleague you barely saw or worked with, and Dick had never seen a sight so utterly _stunning_.

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

He would die before he _ever_ admitted this, he literally did, but he fell first.  _Hard._

There was something about the freedom you had, the way you simply _didn’t care_ what anyone thought, the way you lived in _spite_ of everything that held you back that got to him.  Sure, you were a gorgeous, flirty, coy little cat and he was your favorite prey, but that had nothing to do with why he actually _fell_ for you.  That was all you, especially after he figured out your identity.  One look at you in school, your hair a mess and your eyes lined in wide-framed glasses as you chewed on the top of your pen and studied by yourself, and nobody would _ever_ guess you were Gotham’s newest cat-burglar.  You were just that nerdy girl that tested high enough for a scholarship to Gotham Academy, despite being some poor kid off the streets.

You _used_ the title the world gave you, the hell the world put you through, to your advantage so you could do _whatever the hell you damn well pleased._

You had found him on his favorite spot in the city, he was probably the only person in the entire city that had a favorite gargoyle to sit on, and you just sat yourself down with him.  You didn’t say anything, just sat there with your legs swinging like you didn’t have a care and watched over the city.  You even stayed as the sun began to rise before standing up and leaning over the boy’s shoulder and bumping your cheek against his as you didn’t want to hit him with the narcotic lip-seal you wore.  No words were said, no words needed to be said, and you just took off.

He started sticking around you outside of the whole masked crusader, or thief in your case, thing that brought the two of you together.  He really shouldn’t have, Bruce was going to chew him out, but your presence was comforting even if you would occasionally find yourselves on opposing sides of the law.  You even found out his birthday, just so you could track him down during his nightly patrol and bring him a cupcake, leaving with a flirty wave and a wink before you took off across the rooftops to scope your latest heist.

This admiration of you remained the same when he returned from the dead, but you had left Gotham for bigger prizes by then.  You would meet each other briefly, until the day Kori enlisted your help in getting Jason and Roy to Hong Kong without Interpol immediately starting a gunfight they wouldn’t win.  You thought you were simply tagging along as Kori picked them up in the limo she insisted on getting, your best friend liked to travel in style, but Jason wasn’t about to let that happen.  Not when you were sitting there looking so damn good, having completely dashed aside the shy façade you wore in your youth and fully embracing the clever little seductress you were.  He made for _damn_ sure you were sticking with him.

Somehow, against all odds, you remained a calming presence to him after all these hard years.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

He had a crush on you first, everyone at Gotham U had a crush on the pretty girl from Metropolis, but you fell head-over-heels first.  It was in your sophomore year of college, you and your best friend had managed to get enough money together for a two-room apartment down the street from school, and you were _always_ up late studying.  Tim had been over multiple times to study, it was more often for him to stop by than it was for him not to, and you had a constant standing invitation to the manor as Alfred absolutely _adored_ you.

You had been out sick for a few days, you caught that horrid flu that was going around even though you were _sure_ to get a flu shot, and Tim had kindly taken the time to send you the notes for the classes you were taking together.  You were starting to do better, but you were still miserable and the medicine the doctor gave you knocked you out.  You almost didn’t notice someone knocking on the front door, and because your roommate was at work you had to get up and answer the door yourself.  You had no idea who it could be, your roommate was taking off right after work to visit her family for the weekend, and you hadn’t ordered any food…

“Hey, sorry to drop by…” Tim apologized before holding up a Tupperware bowl and explained, “Alfred insisted I bring this to you and I know your roommate’s out of town for a few days…”

“You’re so sweet,” you smiled, though it was clear you were sick and miserable as you stepped aside to let him inside your home.  He insisted you go back to your spot on the couch, curled up under a _massive_ pile of blankets, as he heated up the soup and brought it to you.  He spent the rest of the evening taking care of you, making sure you had water and fixing the Wi-Fi connection on the TV when it started acting up and disrupted Netflix.  It had been so long since someone took care of you, since your mother died when you were a kid, you started getting teary-eyed as he took the time to take care of you.  You blamed it on the movie when he asked if you were alright, Finding Dory always made you teary-eyed, but it was the first time you had been taken care of in 15 years.  Your father did what he could, but he was a hospital doctor and worked anywhere from eight to 48 hours in a single shift.

You laid on the couch, your head on his lap as he ran a comforting hand through your hair after you took the meds that would inevitably put you to sleep.  Tim was a good guy, sweet and caring, utterly brilliant, attractive, one of your best friends, and went well out of his way to take care of you.  You felt completely and utterly safe, and for the first time had no trouble falling asleep.


	3. Damian Preferences (Meeting and The First Fall)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wasn't sure if I wanted to include Damian or not because I would have to age him up a bit so I don't feel like a creep cause I'm...well, let's not get into my age. Let's just say I was 13 over ten years ago and leave it at that. I wanted to, though.
> 
> That being said, Damian was specifically requested so here is his 'catch up' chapter and he'll be regularly featured from now on.

# Preferences

### Damian Wayne Meeting and The First Fall

**_Meeting_ **

To say Damian wasn’t one for socializing would be like saying Elvis had an effect on the music industry.  Not untrue, but about as big of an understatement as was humanly possible.  That being said, the annual Wayne Enterprises Christmas party was easily one of his _least_ favorite things on the _planet_.  If he had his way, one of the _many_ psychopaths in Gotham would attack and he’d have a way out of the party.

This was Gotham, the chances of that _not_ happening were slim at best.

You, on the other hand, _loved_ Wayne Enterprises parties.  Not because you were a guest, but because you were a waitress for the catering company they regularly hired and rich people tip _really_ well when they start drinking around each other.  Something about getting drunk and wanting to show off in front of the rest of the upper class makes them throw cash around like it _actually_ grows on trees.  You weren’t going to complain, just because you were attending Gotham Academy on a scholarship didn’t mean you didn’t need the cash. 

Desperately enough to ignore the chance of being attacked by a psychopath of the particular brand only found in Gotham. 

This time it was Penguin and his gang, much to your dismay.  The little bastard always gave you the creeps, but to be fair you probably should have expected this.  The Wayne’s _were_ Cobblepot’s enemy number one, and he had a conniption when he found out Bruce Wayne had a biological son on top of the three he had taken in.  That news came out seven years ago and the short man with a honking laughter like a penguin was _still_ pissed about it.

You helped get people into the back hallways, but as a result you were one of the last few people to leave.  Damian was on his way out, a spare set of suits were kept in the Wayne Enterprises tower, but he caught sight of you just as you caught the attention of a goon with a damn machete.  There was no time, sprinting forward and grabbing your wrist before leading you to safety.  He stashed you in a closet, ordering you to stay put.  You weren’t about to argue, you just nodded and attempted to ask what he was going to do before getting cut off as he shut the door.

You waited, within earshot of the fight itself and chose to hide as far into the small closet as you could with a can of Lysol as your only defense.  Everything went quiet and you waited in suspense for what had to be at _least_ half an hour before someone opened the door.  The second the door opened you yelped, throwing the can of Lysol instead of using it like mace like you intended to.

Damian caught the can with ease, looking down at it before looking back up at you with judgmental green eyes.  What the hell did you think you were going to do with this?  If you had actually _sprayed_ the Lysol it might have done something, but _throwing_ it?  Not to mention your aim was utterly _atrocious._

“Sorry,” you managed to squeak out as you stepped out of the closet and began rambling, “I was planning on using it like a can of mace but I panicked and threw it instead.  I’m not normally this skittish, frankly I’m normally a bitch, but that penguin-human hybrid just _freaks me out_.”

You had no idea, besides seeing him in the hall at school and when you catered at Wayne Enterprises parties you never saw Damian, but he was _amused_. 

You were acting like a nervous fool, but you were amusing.

 

 

**_The First Fall_ **

On the surface it looked like you fell first, to this day only three people knew otherwise.  Why else would Damian have continued to let you near in the first place?  He would let people he liked, or at least didn’t irritate him, nearby on occasion but even those he held in high regard he would distance himself from at times.  He would let them nearby, but never did he actively pull someone to his side, with the exception of animals.

Then you came along and broke that rule.

He insisted on teaching you to protect yourself before you discovered he was Robin, and afterwards he was certain to make sure you a) could protect yourself until he got there and b) never once put on a suit and picked up crusading.  The thought hadn’t crossed your mind, your life plans never changed even as Alfred taught you to reset bones and stitch lacerations.

You put up with him, your wit was just as quick, and while you less scathing and more humorous in your sarcasm it still brought a smile to his face.  Or, well, a smirk.  Specifically, when you weren’t being snarky with _him._   One time in particular was after a particularly long patrol ending in an altercation with Two Face and his gang less than a block away from the apartment you lived in with your aunt.  He had to make sure you were safe, he _had_ to, so he made his way to your window and waited for you to open it.

“Great job, Robin, your body is _exactly_ where flying bullets need to go,” you greeted with a sardonic laughter before your sarcastic smile fell and you snapped, “Get in the bathroom so I can patch up your bird-brained ass.”

“Your attitude is unnecessary,” Damian retorted with a grunt, the pain from his wounds settling in now that the adrenaline was dissipating and his heart wasn’t pounding in his head.  You thought it was completely necessary, Damian was smarter than to get himself hurt and he knew coming to your place as Robin while your aunt was home was just _asking_ for trouble.  The family cat, a clumsy fat fluffball that utterly _adored_ Damian, was about to stumble _up_ the stairs and start clawing at your bedroom door the second he sensed Damian was there.  You _adored_ Domo, but you really didn't want to explain why Damian was in your bathroom, shirtless no less, with half of his Robin suit neatly sitting on the counter.

You didn't know how you would explain Damian being there, shirtless or not, without the whole Robin complication.

“Don’t get hurt and I won’t have an attitude.”  You pulled the first aid kit Alfred put together for you out from the hiding spot under your bathroom sink as Damian lifted himself to sit on the counter, wincing as he stretched a particular wound the wrong way.  He really lost focus this time, he certainly left a handful of Two Face’s gang with permanent damage, and his father was going to throw a _fit_.  Damian had to be more careful.

He wasn’t about to tell you why he got careless, why he rushed to check on you, why he was willing to put up with your friends, or why he did anything when it came to you.  Admitting it to you was the first step in letting the world know you were a weakness, and that would put you in more danger than _anyone_ could imagine.  You were in enough danger simply being _this_ close to him.  If his mother…

He couldn’t take that risk, not with you.


	4. Preferences: The Second Fall

# Preferences

### The Second Fall

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

It was gradual, a direct result of his life, but after you quickly figured out his identity as Batman you were part of just about _every_ aspect of his daily life.  You were always fiddling with his gear, upgrading things, reprograming things, snapping at him for getting hurt as you stitched him up.  You’d make sure he took care of himself, playing the bad guy when Alfred couldn’t or wouldn’t.  You’d put your foot down and make him take a night off, let people help, whatever he needed to do but wasn’t about to do without your influence.  You cared even when he didn’t.

If he had to narrow it down to one single moment, it was what should have been an average Sunday afternoon after a long night on the job.  You had kept a duffle bag in a spare room of the manor after too many trips back to your apartment at four-fucking-o’clock in the goddamn morning, and you were _not_ a morning person.  Of course, being an adult made it difficult to sleep in past nine which resulted in you sleepily making your way downstairs to the kitchen for coffee and breakfast.

You never let Alfred make breakfast alone, always helping in whatever capacity he would allow you.  When Bruce and Tim joined the two of you in the kitchen, you were found half-dead as you lazily stirred the batter for the waffles you were later going to cry about with Tim when you were in private.  Alfred’s waffles were _horrible_ , but nobody had the heart to tell him.

Bruce affectionately brushed your hair out of your eyes as he made his way to the coffee pot, and you looked up and gave him a goofy smile, still clearly delirious from lack of sleep, before placing your head on the cold kitchen island with the spoon still in hand.  Tim grimaced when he noticed the spoon was sticking straight up in the batter, but didn’t say anything.  Neither did Bruce, as he placed a hot cup of coffee next to you and watched as you pulled yourself away from the disturbing batter and to the warm liquid, smiling and humming in contentment as you enjoyed your coffee.

That was it.  That was the moment it all fell into place, and you became not only a focal point of his life, but a weakness he couldn’t allow anyone to get to.

There was no telling what he might do if you were hurt.

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

After the successful conclusion of your first investigation together, you found yourself working with Nightwing more and more often.  You were beginning to suspect it was due to Nightwing’s machinations, but to be fair the phrase _Nightwing and Nightingale_ just rolled off the tongue.  You enjoyed working with him, enjoyed spending time with him both in an out of the mask.  Your lives were chaotic enough, it was nice having a friend that understood the need to simply _collapse_ and binge bad television and worse food.

You had spent the entire day avoiding your friends, shutting off your phone, anything just for a few hours of peace on your birthday.  You knew they meant well, but even your sister-who knew of your masked identity-didn’t quite understand why you didn’t want to go out to party.  It had nothing to do with your age, and you did enjoy going out with them, but you were taking a much-deserved night off after two weeks of _nothing_ but League missions and helping practically everyone else.  It was your birthday present to yourself, the others could wait a few days until you were up to going out.

The front door of your apartment opened and closed, instantly catching you off guard.  Reaching into your closet, grabbing one of many non-lethal weapons, you were prepared for the worst until you heard something that would always put you at ease.

“Hey, it’s Dick.  I got food.”

You had given Dick a key to your apartment when it became an unspoken rule the two of you were partners, just as you had a key to his.  You tossed the weapon onto your bed and stepped into the living room, spotting the former Robin as he carefully placed a paper bag of what smelled like Chinese food on the coffee table, but that didn’t catch your attention.  It was the shabbily wrapped box topped with a bow that Dick was carefully placing on the coffee table that caught your attention.

“Is that what I think it is?  Because I made it pretty clear that-“

“I know, I know, but you’ll love it, I _promise_ ,” he pressed, absolutely certain that you would love the gift even though you were clear you wanted _no presents._   You watched Dick carefully as you sat on the couch, and he handed you the box before sitting down to watch as you unwrapped your gift.  Underneath Dick’s poor wrapping job was a white box, which you carefully opened and once you did, your cautious expression dropped for one of awe.  Carefully, you reached inside to pick up the gold and deep green music box, the chill of the metal surprising you.  It wasn’t _real_ gold, no idiot would make movie merchandise out of actual valuable metals, but the fact Dick had tracked down the collectable instead of one more like the cheap plastic one that broke only months after it was given to you was shocking enough.

As silly as it sounded, you had an emotional attachment to the movie _Anastasia_ , your parents had been killed in a violent bank robbery when you were young and you and your sister had been split up and thrown into the foster system.  It was two full years until your grandmother could bring you home, and by then Dinah had long-since taken you under her wing.  You carefully looked over the music box in your hands, placing it into the box to pick up the smaller one inside, which held the matching necklace which opened the music box.

You reached over to Dick and pulled him into a hug, thanking him and telling him just how much you loved the gift.  He looked so damn proud with how much you loved the gift, and you couldn’t imagine the hell he went through to find the set in the first place, let alone how much he spent and _remembering_ that brief conversation when it came up.  That must have been _months_ ago, you didn’t even remember how it came up in the first place.  It was so sweet, and he was so proud of making you _happy_ , the only real question was how you hadn’t fallen for him earlier.

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

You never felt _needed_ before.  Your expertise, your skills, were needed on multiple occasions, but as a person?  You couldn’t say you were needed for anything.  Nobody needed a woman who gave no fucks and had no respect for authority, with or without an inappropriate sense of humor.  You were a _disaster_ of a person, nobody wanted someone like you around.  Why would they?

Simple, they were just as fucked up as you.

It was probably a bad reason to fall for a guy, but to be fair it was the reason that started your tumble for the Red Hood.  It certainly wasn’t the _only_ reason you fell.  For starters, he managed to fit the _bad boy_ requirement you had without being a controlling, abusive asshole.  Alright, that was an even _worse_ reason, but you had better ones.

The biggest one being he managed to take a life that would ruin anyone else and came out better than anyone else thought _possible_.  He was flawed, but beautifully so.  He had literally been to hell and back, and somehow, he was a better person than you had ever been.  He did all of that and still needed _you_.  Not your skills, not your connections, not one of the many things you had stolen over the years, or even your name as an internationally renowned hitman.  He needed _you_ , in all your broken, ugly, and flawed glory.

After a nightmarish encounter with the freak who killed Jason in the first place, a nightmare for everyone connected to the Bat, sleep came even harder to Jason.  Enhanced healing granted by his perfect resurrection by the Lazarus Pit helped him recover physically, but the physical and mental scars of his death were still there and haunted him once again.

Sitting at the head of Jason’s bed in nothing but an oversized shirt and briefs, Jason’s head on your lap with his eyes closed as he attempted to find _some_ peace through meditation techniques taught to him in his time with the All Caste, you just _knew._   You couldn’t leave him.  Through the simple act of needing you, _you_ , he unwittingly shifted your entire worldview and turned you into a better person, someone you never thought you could be.

Suddenly, you needed him just as much as he needed you.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

It was a rush of jealousy that brought everything to light.  Tim had been gone for a solid _week_ , Titans business, and when he returned he was met with a discovery that created a sour taste in the back of his throat.  Some guy was hanging around you _all the time_ , and it was clear what he wanted.

Alright, maybe he wasn’t just after sex.  You were a wonderful person and easy to connect with, it was likely this _guy_ wanted an actual relationship.  He would open doors for you, pull out a chair for you, carry your bag.  As a general rule guys don’t do that if they’re just looking for sex, but that didn’t make things any better. 

Tim looked into the guy chasing after you, this _Michael._ He had a clean record, grew up in Star City, top of his high school class and did well in college, had a part-time job at the library.  Even less… _conventional_ means of investigation, namely digging up character references and obviously abusing his access to not only the Titan’s database, but the Batcomputer and the League as well, brought up nothing that would cause concern.  All the evidence showed that Michael’s previous girlfriends had nothing negative to say about him, they simply parted because the feelings were gone or they were too busy to manage a long-distance relationship.

If anything, it made things _worse._   This _guy_ was coming along and stealing you-

Oh god, what the hell was he thinking?  You weren’t _his_ to be stolen, you were your own person and if you wanted to date this guy he’d support you.  He’d be your friend and help you through tough times, just like always.  This wouldn’t change anything, except the ache as he watched you with some other guy.

But if anything happened to you no creature, man, woman, or _god,_ would be able to protect _Michael_.

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

You hadn’t expected him to show up, you simply told him in case he wanted to reach you.  Underground concerts weren’t exactly his thing, and even though you were one of many performing artists you respected the fact they weren’t his scene.  It would have been nice if he was there, it would have been nice if any of your friends were there and your aunt didn’t have to work late, but you weren’t going to get upset about it like a whiny child.

Especially considering he was probably out keeping Gotham safe, if not taking on an _international_ criminal of some sort.

Four original songs later, it was time for you to leave the stage and allow the next performer their spot.  You settled things back stage, collected the couple hundred you were getting for the performance before making your way out into the crowd.  You received a few compliments from people attending the concert, but you left after a quick _thank you_ and made your way to the exit.  You briefly stopped to readjust your jacket, while it wasn’t raining the spring night in Gotham was still chilly.

“The concert was good,” Damian spoke up, making you jump a bit simply out of surprise, turning to face him as he stepped closer to you and added, “Well, _you_ were.  The others were tolerable, I suppose.”

“I can’t believe you came,” you readjusted the strap of your guitar case, from where it hung on your shoulder, “I thought you had some vigilantism to do.”

“We’re not _vigilantes_ ,” Damian corrected sternly, there was a _massive_ difference between vigilantes and Batman and Robin, before quickly adding, “And be _careful_ where you say things like that.”

“Alright, fine, but you have to admit _vigilantism_ is a cool word,” you retorted, brushing Damian’s angrily stern demeanor off like it was something you dealt with on a daily basis-it was-before repeating the question Damian was attempting to dodge.  If you were anyone else, he would have succeeded in dodging your inquiry, but you were too clever for that.

“So, what _are_ you doing here?” you repeated, as Damian walked you down the dark streets to ensure you returned home safely.

“My patrol ended and it was on my way.”

That was a load of bullshit if you had ever heard one.  It’s not like Damian kept a set of civilian clothes stashed in his utility belt.  He went home, changed, and made his way back to the city to hear you play four songs at a venue that was unmistakably somewhere Damian would prefer to _not_ be, and then walk you home safely.  You weren’t about to call him on his bullshit, the second he was called out on caring about someone he got defensive or dodged the question like a skittish cat.  You were fine with keeping your smug discovery to yourself, and enjoying the company of handsome, snarky, sarcastic, and adorably sweet caped crusader that you…

Awe crap…


	5. Preferences: When It all Changed (Confessions)

# Preferences

### When It all Changed (Confessions)

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

Another holiday, another gala Bruce had to force himself to attend.  He was beginning to hate these things as much as you did, but he had a little solace afterwards.  Taking you home always left him with a smile on his face.  By that time, you were normally drunk.  Stumbling a bit and lacking the filter that kept you from saying what you really thought, but sober enough to make your own clear decisions.  It was best to get you out of public when you started spouting off the first thing that came to mind.

As stunned as they _all_ were to find out you had a filter, you actually did.

You kicked off your black heels as soon as you unlocked the door to your apartment, not caring if your black evening gown lightly brushed against the floor or if your leg was practically hanging out of the thigh-high slit.  You reached into the cupboard and grabbed two glasses before grabbing a bottle of bourbon, pouring drinks for yourself and Bruce.  It was an unspoken tradition at this point.

You weren’t going to let Bruce take off after that drink, not this time.  You had been waiting for him to make a move, _any_ move, and you were quickly growing impatient.  Grabbing his tie, you pulled him down for a kiss and just like you expected, he didn’t pull away.  He pulled you firmly against him, one hand at the skin revealed by the low cut back of your dress and the other tangled in your hair at the nape of your neck as he led you through your apartment and to your bedroom.

He wasn’t backing his way, he decided as he pinned you down against your bed.

Not this time.

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

You would have begged him to accompany you and your friends to the club if you had to.  Your sister had stopped trying to hook you up with every male that breathed oxygen, she understood someone in your situation couldn’t just hook up with _anybody_ , but your friends had no idea how you ended up with bruises and cuts all the time.  They just thought you were clumsy, which made explaining how you could do an aerial flip off the half-wall lining the park and land perfectly a _hell_ of a lot harder.  If you brought an attractive guy with you, they’d _have_ to cut back on trying to set you up.

Dick agreed, with little to no coercion involved, and met you at your apartment.  You told him he didn’t have to try to look good, to which he cockily replied that _of course_ he didn’t he _always_ looked good.  After rolling your eyes so hard it physically _hurt_ , and lightly shoving him with your foot from your seat on the couch, you pointed out that you weren’t putting any effort into being anything better than presentable, which remained true.  That being said, either you had ruthless standards or you weren’t aware just how _good_ you looked on a bad day-and Dick was convinced it was the second one.

There was probably insanity, but Dick couldn’t exactly say he _noticed_ all that much.  He was too focused on you, pulling him onto the dancefloor as a song you just _had_ to dance to blasted through the speakers and shook the stifling air surrounding the crowded room.  Your body fit perfectly against his, the feeling of your hands on him and his hands on you was just too good, too _addicting_ , beer always made him reckless and stupid and he had just enough to throw all caution to the wind.

For a drunken first kiss, it was short but it got the point across.  You tangled a hand in Dick’s hair and pulled him down for a longer, hotter kiss that left you breathless.  Half a second later the two of you were tumbling out of the club, hands all over each other, and making your way back home.  A few times he pressed you back against a nearby wall to press passionate kisses against your lips before you slipped away and pulled him along to your apartment.  You stopped at your door, as he spun you around and kissed you once again, longer and deeper than before.

“We can stop here for tonight, take it slow,” he offered, kissing you lightly as his hands tangled in your hair and he leaned his forehead against yours, “Whatever you want.”

“I want you, feathers,” you replied, whispering against his lips just as he had seconds earlier, and your lips pursed in amusement as you teased him, “Now unless you want the first time we have sex to be in the hallway, let me unlock my apartment.”

“Yes ma’am.”  Dick chuckled and pulled away just far enough for you to pull out your apartment key and unlock the door, waiting for you to open the door before gently pushing you inside and shutting the door behind him.

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

It started as a fight, one big enough that Kori and Roy took off before they were dragged into it.  They might have their own room in the hotel, but they weren’t about to take the risk.

The jackass had gone and done something stupid, nearly got himself killed-again-because he couldn’t just trust that you had the situation handled.  You would have walked away with a fractured wrist and a sprained ankle, but at least he wouldn’t have gotten shot _three goddamn times_.

You had already patched up the bullet wound on his arm and shoulder, saving for the one in his side for last.  _That_ was when you started bitching him out, because he couldn’t go anywhere while you were in the middle of pulling a bullet out of his side.  He snapped back as well as he could, between pain filled hisses and a final grunt as the bullet left his flesh.  He stayed still until you finished cleaning and stitching the wound, but as soon as you were finished he stood up with every intention of fighting back.

He towered over you, he always had, and the size comparison would have concerned anyone else.  You, however, stood your ground and glared up into Jason’s sharp blue eyes without wavering.  It was a full-out screaming match.  Eventually the two of you were practically stalking around each other, Jason grabbed a clean shirt but never put it on as he threw it down in his anger.  You began throwing things _into_ your bag instead of unpacking your bag, expecting to take off for the night in the interest of keeping yourself from _killing_ Jason.  Just because you loved the man didn’t mean he wasn’t the most _infuriating_ person on the _planet_ when he put his mind to it.

You loved him, you did, and you never wanted to leave him to flounder on his own because he needed you there.  The thought of leaving his side killed you, but sticking around to watch as Jason destroyed himself killed you even more.  You were reaching the end of your rope, and all you could think to do was take off for a few days to gather your thoughts.  You had to, it was the only way to keep from crying.

“Oh, yeah, take off,” Jason scoffed as he watched you throwing things into your bag, “So fucking typical, I actually give a shit about you and you take off like _everyone_ else.”

“Do you have _any_ idea what it’s like watching someone you love try to _destroy_ themselves day after day?” you snapped, spinning on your heel to glare at Jason with glossy eyes as it became too much to hold back, “You keep needlessly putting yourself in these situations and I can’t understand _why_!  I can’t keep watching you try to kill yourself!”

It was only seconds, maybe, but it felt like an hour as Jason stood frozen in shock, his heart pounding in his head and his throat.  He watched as you turned back to your bag and prepared to leave, throwing a pair of clean sweats aside to throw on as you were only wearing a camisole, a thin long-sleeve shirt that fell off your shoulder, and a pair of briefs.  You were going to leave, you were going to walk out that door after you said…because he…and you couldn’t…

He couldn’t let you go.  _He couldn’t let you go._

Long strides took Jason across the room and to you, grabbing you by the waist and spinning you to face him as he pinned you against the wall and pressed a heated kiss against your lips.

You weren’t going anywhere.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

As horrendously clingy as it sounded, Tim noticed whenever you were apart bad things always happened.  This time it was you who left Gotham, spending the Thanksgiving holiday with your father, and getting caught up in Lex Luthor’s latest disaster.  To make matters worse, he didn’t find out you had been one of the innocent bystanders until days after the fact.

He dropped everything, taking off for Metropolis without even considering the fact he still had yet to meet your father and barely taking the time to look up your father’s home address.  ~~He really needed to ease up on his abuse of the databases he had access to.~~   His heart was pounding in his head, shaking his entire body as he sped through the streets of Metropolis to find you.  You had to be home, for his sake you had to be.  He hadn’t slept in the better part of a week, but if he had to scour all of Metropolis to find you and make sure you were alright he would.

You had gotten off lucky, knowing how to react in a disaster as the result of spending _way_ too much time around Tim.  Well, you wouldn’t call it too much time, but your ex-boyfriend certainly did.  Still, thanks to Tim’s influence you got out with nothing but a broken wrist and a concussion.  Compared to the people your father was currently treating in the hospital, it was nothing short of a miracle.

You didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, having to grow up too fast and never having much time for games or hanging out with others your age, and the friends you did still have were out of town or glued to loved ones in the hospital.  You ended up spending all of your time at your childhood home, but you couldn’t say you minded.  You caught up on reading, worked on homework, studied, binged on Netflix and Hulu.  It gave you time to get what you needed for Thanksgiving dinner…your inevitably lonely Thanksgiving dinner.  With all the work your father had to do, and all the injured people needing surgery and treatment everyone was on-call.  He may make it home for a bit, but if you managed to have a Thanksgiving dinner with your father it was going to be the first since you were a child.

It was alright, it was his job.  He had people that needed help.

The knock on the door caught you by surprise, dragging your attention from your favorite childhood novel as your brow furrowed.  You weren’t expecting anyone, if your father forgot his keys he would just call your cell, everyone who could visit wasn’t going to anytime soon…

There was a knock at the door again, more fevered this time, and you threw the plush blanket off of your legs to get up and answer the door.  You opened the door, concerned when you saw Tim bracing himself against the doorway, his head hanging and eyes shut before the door opened.

There you were, safe and sound, looking none the worse for wear save for a cast on your wrist and a few minor scrapes and bruises that were almost entirely healed. 

You were safe, you were well.

“Tim, what’s wrong?  You look-“

He stepped into the house and gently cupped the sides of your neck and pulled you into a desperate kiss.  He couldn’t let this happen again, he couldn’t let you worry him like this again, he couldn’t go another day without you knowing just how much you meant to him.  He had never felt something like the thrill he did when you instantly returned the kiss, your lips turning into a smile against his as you pulled him closer.

“Come on, you,” you smiled as the kiss ended and you began pulling Tim back towards the living room, specifically the couch, “It’s nap time for you.”

“I’m fine-“

“I’ve been out of town, I guarantee the last time you slept was the day I left town,” you cut him off, sitting on the couch and pulling Tim down with you before easing him to lay down so his head laid in your lap.  He continued insisting he was fine, until you started playing with his hair.

You always knew how to get Tim to sit back and rest, one of _many_ reasons he fell for you in the first place.

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

Another weekend, another day training with Damian.  By now he was basically just teaching you how to be another masked crusader, he’d been putting through rigorous self-defense training so long you ended up in better shape than you’ve _ever_ been.  Seriously, you managed the annual mile run without having to stop and even managed a few pull-ups.  You kept going along to appease Damian, as much as he attempted to hide his feelings for you the poor boy was an open book to you.  It was hard not to, considering he opened up to so few people and became this protective over even less people.

Considering he purposely sought out your company and honestly _told_ you about his identity as Robin, instead of leaving you to find out by accident, it would have been embarrassing if you _hadn’t_ figured it out.  Besides, the training sessions were good for your health and kept you in decent shape…and may or may not give you the chance to show off the fact you’ve always been _freakishly_ flexible.

You wouldn’t show up until about noon-ish on Saturday, you claimed it was because you wanted to sleep in but it was mostly to give Damian a chance to _sleep_.  Friday nights were always hellish in Gotham, and on more than three occasion you would arrive at Wayne Manor to find out Damian had a sprained wrist, was recovering from a dislocated shoulder, or even stab and bullet wounds.  One time he had a spinal injury and shrugged it off, claiming he would be find after a month or two.  You tried convincing him that there was no need to continue the training he insisted you started in the first place.

He did _not_ like that.

You had no idea just what he was trying to protect you from, but considering the fact he could face Poison Ivy or the goddamn _Joker_ without flinching it had to be something big.  You never asked, never pushed, never even brought up _not_ continuing with this training program unless it was for _his_ health.  You were willing to do what it took to help ease his fears for your own safety, it was the very least you could do for him.

You did more than that, without thinking about it, or even _realizing_ it.  There were still times he found himself vehemently disagreeing with his father, and simply being with you had allowed his anger and frustration to fade within a matter of hours, if not minutes.  Even as you made him teach you Arabic, help you bake, picked at your guitar as you worked on a new song, or even attempted to cheat at whatever game the two of you were playing by trying to knock the controller out of his hands.

As he continued to teach you how to throw a knife, in case you couldn’t reach the stash of Batarangs he had given you the week before, you couldn’t help but wonder just when Damian was going to make his move.  You’d been waiting for a year and a half by this point and, while you understood he was remaining cautious for your safety, your friendship had reached a point you were going to be a target no matter _what_ he did.  So, as he corrected your hold on the knife and explained…something, you cut him off entirely.

“Are you going to ask me out, or is this going to be one of those relationships where the girl makes all the decisions?” you questioned, flatly, before explaining, “Because I don’t think you’ll be okay with me being the one in charge.  I mean, let’s be honest, you still barely listen to your dad and he’s _Batman_.  As Robin it’s kind of your _job_ to listen to him.”

Damian was surprised, for a few seconds, then he was just unamused as he plucked the practice knife out of your hand before throwing it into the practice dummy himself.  He made his way to the stairs, and you quickly jogged after him and asked where you were going.  With a quick, almost shy, kiss to your lips he answered simply.

“Out.”

"Like a _date?_ " You grinned, not willing to let Damian off the hook _quite_ yet as you teased him.

“Quiet.”


	6. Preferences: Kiss

# Preferences

### Kisses

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

Life had taught Bruce many things, some lessons even conflicting with each other, such as to keep himself distant but to always treat every moment with his loved ones like it was the last.  Once keeping you distant, for your own safety, failed miserably he fell back onto the second rule.

He knew any night could be his last, and even if you were mad at him he never wanted to leave without giving you one last kiss, gently holding you by the nape of your neck and pressing a slow and lingering kiss against your lips.  It broke your heart every time, knowing he was doing this in case it was a final goodbye, and you never wanted it to end as you trailed your hand over his shoulder before stopping where his shoulder and spine met to pull him closer. 

He always pulled away, no matter how much he didn’t want to, leaving for another patrol or investigation that could very well be his last.

<https://media.giphy.com/media/38u3KWy5Kl5QY/giphy.gif>

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

There was always something just a little bit playful, something that brought a smile to your face.  After your nightly shower, after a patrol, he would always be waiting in the kitchen for you to emerge, like a puppy.  You would tease him about it, calling him a puppy, to which he would reply he couldn’t sleep without you by his side anymore, but you never felt quite right without the ritualistic kiss he gave you either.

Leaning back against the counter, Dick would watch as you walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge before standing before him.  Gently running his hand through your hair before stopping to cup the side of you neck, he would guide your closer before pressing his lips against yours in a loving kiss as your free hand clutched at the hem of his shirt.

After pulling apart, you would tug on the edge of Dick’s shirt before guiding him to the bedroom for some much-deserved rest.

<http://78.media.tumblr.com/496ddd7882809a3bc895e25758e313f1/tumblr_inline_nr2co8E08O1sjv0cn_500.gif>

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

There was always something a little bit desperate, a little bit needy, as he kissed you.  This was especially true in your private moments.  You would turn on the radio for some ambient background noise, complete silence always set the two of you on edge as that was a surefire sign of oncoming danger.  He would occasionally look up from cleaning his guns to watch as you bopped around one of your many hideouts, your favorite being a lofty apartment in a warehouse you renovated for your uses, as you fiddled with your gadgets.

Placing the pieces of his armory onto the coffee table, Jason got up to grab you by the waist and pull you flush against him.  You grabbed onto the sides of his shirt, still moving to the ambient music in the background a little as you returned Jason’s kiss with as much love as you could muster, trying to show you would always be there no matter how desperate things got. 

He could just stand there like that, kissing you as you moved the two of them along to the music, for _hours_.

<https://78.media.tumblr.com/0f2f4f0de23c2180922dec2c88ced9e4/tumblr_oliwa5CRSr1v8hcteo1_500.gif>

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

Watching you with someone else, being forced to grit his teeth and smile through the ache as someone else made you smile, taught Tim to take his time in appreciating you.  Every kiss was just as loving as the last, but nothing compared to the moments the two of you had alone.  Sometimes it would come out of nowhere, he would be working in the kitchen as you made whatever recipe you had the ingredients for, and he would look up as he watched you cook.    You never wore an apron, but you always ended up with something staining your shirt and your measurements were _never_ exact.

You had tried teaching Barb how to make an old family favorite, and simultaneously baffled and infuriated the red-head when your exact instructions included the phrase _‘until it looks right, and before it smells burnt.’_

He would wait until you were free enough to be pulled away from your latest project for a few minutes, pulling you into a soft kiss and guiding you to lean back against the wall as he pressed slow kisses against your lips.  He would pull away just as slowly, his lips sliding upwards and slowly dragging your upper lip along before he leaned down to press his forehead against yours and stay there, admiring you as long as he could.

<http://68.media.tumblr.com/945f240c8e8dab4ba9f8820ea048701e/tumblr_inline_naazqeAbGh1skiuc6.gif>

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

Damian hadn’t known love, real love, until long after his personality had begun its formation, and even afterwards he kept himself guarded and distant.  You were an unexpected change, a complication he never prepared for.  Between that, and the natural air of dominance and authority he carried, you allowed him to take the lead with any display of affection once you got him to warm up to it.

He was gentle in his coaxing, even with all the training he gave you to protect yourself he could easily harm you and that was a thought he could not stand.  It would start with a strong hand under your chin and guiding you to face him, staying there as the two of you drew closer.  Your eyes would slide closed, completely submitting yourself to him with a level of trust he couldn’t fathom, his eyelids kept low until your lips met.  He would pull your upper lip between his own as your lips melded together with a blissful perfection as his eyes slid completely shut.

With every kiss it became clearer and clearer to him, he had a duty to protect the world but for you he would burn the very same world he swore to protect.

<https://68.media.tumblr.com/9a1a836cab622ff69a65f3679db940db/tumblr_ov18cfL1qb1rrugpso1_500.gif>


	7. Request: Library Run-In (Jason)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A request for what happened when Jason first spoke with Reader (from the preferences) in school.

# Request

### Library Run-In (Jason)

If you had the time or patience in the morning, you would actually bother with your hair, makeup, or literally anything other than basic hygiene and changing into your uniform.  Seeing as you were normally out until about three in the morning, however, that was wildly unlikely.  You couldn’t say you very much cared about what the other girls in school said about you, or even what the guys thought about you, as you threw your hair into a messy ponytail and threw on your uniform in a rush, along with messy low-tops and brightly colored ankle-high socks that may or may not match.  None of this was you, anyway, just a cover so you could legitimately get a high school diploma before taking off.  You already knew everything you needed to know.

It's not like Gotham University had a program of study for aspiring international criminals.

The emergence of Catwoman’s apprentice, you hadn’t picked a name for yourself, but everyone seemed intent on calling you _Kitten_ , had taken the school by storm.  Gothamites your age, girls and boys, loved Catwoman for reasons ranging from being hot, to being a clever and strong woman capable of outwitting the Bat.  Once it turned out there was a teenage girl just as capable, the school was _immediately_ obsessed.

Knowing you were everything they wanted, and everything they wished they could be, was an unnecessary perk to the situation.

Bruce was _certain_ you were Kitten, but upon spotting you at school Jason wasn’t entirely sure.  You were a complete disaster, literally the _complete_ opposite of the coy girl who flirted her way into escaping with a priceless painting.  Jason had tried arguing, but until he had certain proof it wasn’t you the old man wasn’t about to listen.  Jason frequented the library fairly often, but never after school as he took off the _second_ the bell rang, which was likely what made it so easy for you to notice him as you finished your homework in the back of the school library.

Jason kept a safe distance, browsing through the shelves for something new to read and becoming more and more disappointed in the wide selection of crap teenage romance and severe lack in anything even _half_ decent.  He was becoming surer and surer that you were no thief, turning his focus into trying to find _anything_ to read, until you slipped up next to him and he _didn’t even notice._   He didn’t jump, you kept your voice soft in the quiet of the library, but even without the playful lilt and the teasing smirk he recognized you by your voice.

“Try this, the translation from French to English is fairly decent and the series itself is pretty good,” you said as you held the library copy of _Ars_ _ène Lupin Gentleman Burglar_ out for Jason.  It truly was an old favorite of yours, and was the _Sherlock Holmes_ of France in the early 1900’s, but you had your own reasons for handing him the book.  Selina was allowed to operate because she supplied Batman with information, granted you had a less direct route but you wanted to make sure that protection extended to you.

Besides, you had a score to settle with that riddling nudnik in green, and how better than to spill most of his plans to Batman and Robin before he even finished setting up his glorified prank?  That’ll teach him to try to capture you like you were some average sidekick to be used as _bait_ , all because he couldn’t get his hands on Selina.

“Thanks,” Jason replied simply, taking the book and looking it over before letting it fall open in his hand.  It was a bit amusing, watching his eyes widen as he realized just what you had tucked into the book before he snapped it shut, looking down at you as you gave him the very same smirk you wore the night you met.  He’d recognize that smirk anywhere.  You knew who he was, which meant Selina Kyle told you-

“Unruffle your feathers, I’m just trying to help,” you almost cooed as your entire demeanor changed, unbeknownst to him you were repressing the urge to tap the tip of his nose because you had to  _behave,_ “Earn my keep, as it were.”

“And you’re just… _giving_ me this?” Jason couldn’t help but question your motivation with an arched brow, finding it far easier to face you with your hair a mess and out of that catsuit that clung to you like second skin.

“This time,” you admitted with a sigh before blatantly adding, “And the jackass tried to kidnap me.  If you could rearrange his spine into a question mark, I’d appreciate it.”

With a snicker, Jason tucked the book safely under his arm and prepared to check out the book without letting the old librarian see the plans you hid inside, and offered, “I’ll do what I can but If Bruce gets there first, it’s out of my hands.”

“I suppose that’ll do this time,” you feigned disappointment before stepping away and making your way back to your things, sitting back down and returning to your homework as if nothing had happened.  You seemed harmless enough, twirling the end of your pencil in a loose strand of hair and deeply ingrained in your homework.

Jason knew better and, for some inexplicable reason, he looked forward for the next time the two of you ran into each other, with or without the masks.


	8. Preferences: Unmasked

# Preferences

### Unmasked

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

You had been working in the Wayne Enterprises R&D labs for a few months, working side by side with the old Fox no less.  He was an ingenious man, really, but he had some ideas that had you questioning if he really was as _crazy_ as a fox.  He had requested your assistance with a particular project he was working on, something for the contract with ARGUS that Bruce had, unfortunately, picked up when he bought out your family company.

ARGUS was a government entity, and a secretive one at that.  Not long ago they had you designing remote explosives to be safely inserted in the spinal columns of criminals, so why would they care if a mounted gun had _non-lethal_ rounds?  You continued to work on the project, engrossing yourself in your work, until you caught a news story as you picked up some Chinese on your way home from work one evening.  You recognized the work on the Batmobile, _it was your work._

You didn’t know if the Fox had planned for you to figure it out, he had, and you didn’t exactly care if he really needed your help with turning what used to be a heavily decorated drag racer into a tank fit for high-speed chases on the streets of Gotham, he did, but you had other issues to deal with.  Pulling out your cell phone you quickly scrolled through your contacts until you found Bruce’s personal cell and immediately hit _call._

“Would there happen to be something you want to tell me?  Possibly something related to Gotham’s unusual love for _flying giant rodents?”_ you snapped, not even waiting for Bruce to speak after you heard him answer his cell.  He was quiet for a minute, likely not exactly appreciating your attitude while mentally cursing old Fox for getting him into this situation.

“Get to the manor, we’ll talk where it’s safe.”

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

Batman and everyone that worked with him in Gotham kept their identities closely guarded secrets.  Only select few were allowed to know, and while Dinah and Ollie knew they still weren’t permitted to share that information.  You supposed it was only fair, it wasn’t up to them to decide if you were allowed to know who Batman and Robin were.  That was up to Batman and Robin-mostly Batman.

With the size of the latest investigation the Justice League had taken on, this one revolving around multiple villains including both Vandal Savage _and_ Ra’s Al Ghul, any and all sidekicks were basically errand-heroes.  Ollie once joked you were a _gopher_ , and once you questioned what that meant he explained, “you know, _go for_ -“

Ollie didn’t get to finish that statement as you had kicked him in his shin, much to Dinah’s amusement.  That didn’t stop her from handing you a secured data drive and sending you off to the Batcave to deliver the item in question to Batman.  Mounting your recently acquired bike, a 16th birthday present after officially receiving your license, you took off for Gotham and didn’t even bother knocking as you slipped into the Batcave.

Dick, who had taken off and picked up a new persona as Nightwing fairly recently, hadn’t bothered with his mask.  At least, not until he spotted you too late.  You had made your way up to the massive computer, you _refused_ to call it the _Batcomputer_ because that was just _overkill_ with the bat theme, and expected to find the latest Robin there at the very least.  It wasn’t a secret that Nightwing was the first Robin, and the second one had a bit of an issue with following instructions which resulted in him being _grounded_ on occasion.  Seeing Nightwing there, without his mask no less…

You recognized him instantly, you had been dragged many parties with Ollie and/or Dinah in an attempt to keep Olli and/or Roy on their best behavior.  It didn’t normally end well, for anyone in the Arrow team to be honest, but this was just… _Dick Grayson?_   _Really_?  As attractive as he was, he was a complete-

Wait, but if Dick Grayson was the first Robin…and the second Robin only showed up after Bruce Wayne took in Jason Todd…

With a yelp, tossing the data drive to an equally stunned Di- _Nightwing_ , you took off and sped your way back home.

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

There was no fun or mystery in figuring out who Robin was, or even Batman for that matter.  Selina had flat out told you, not to screw them but for your own safety.  She had to, it was inevitable you would meet one or both of them without the mask.  Still, _Jason Todd?_   Sure, you didn’t know much about the guy, but he was kind of…well…he was a _jackass._

You kept an eye on him, from a distance, as you tried to figure out just how to approach the situation on your hands.  You had a heap of information on the Riddler and you wanted to hand it over to _one_ of the caped crusaders as a sort of peace offering.  They let you steal the occasional shiny object or pretty picture, and you give them information they otherwise wouldn’t know existed until it was too late.  By then you suspected at least Batman had started putting the pieces together, but that didn’t exactly matter.

You were going to out yourself, right when you gave your favorite little bird a treat, just this once.

None of it was surprising, it was awfully tame compared to most stories about this kind of situation.  That being said, you probably should have known fate was planning on really giving you a shock later down the line-specifically when Jason Todd found himself very _un_ dead in the living room of your Gotham safehouse.

He was just sitting there, lounging on your couch and watching TV, dressed as the Red Hood who had recently shown up in Gotham with the matching helmet on your coffee table.  As multiple thoughts ran through your head, the most prevalent one being _‘I don’t drink enough for this shit,’_ you slowly shut your apartment door and stayed there.  The two of you never broke eye-contact, though he didn’t seem nearly as stunned as you were.  Then again, he was the one guns, knives, and spare ammo on his person.  All you had were a few throwing knives, and based on what you had heard that would _barely_ be enough to get you to the armory you kept in your bedroom.

“You’re not here to kill me, right?”

“Nah, I just needed a place to crash for a bit.  I should get going,” he answered as he stood up, stretching before he grabbed his helmet and slipped it on before securing it, “Got a big meeting with a few future _employees_.”

Considering how he’d been bringing the Gotham crime families under his control, you figured you knew what that meant.  You didn’t stop him, just standing in front of your apartment door as Jason, whose funeral you _swore_ you had gone to, took off through your window and into the Gotham night.  As if your day hadn’t been weird enough, what with befriending an orange alien princess who shared emotions, memories, and feelings by kissing people-you included.  Now you had an undead mob boss breaking into your apartment, and not to kill you…

“What is my life?”

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

He really needed to start sleeping more than four hours for every three days.  You had been lecturing him about this, especially after you accidently grabbed his travel mug instead of your own and tasted whatever dangerously caffeinated concoction was in there.  You dragged him all the way back to your apartment and forced him to take a nap on the couch.

That being said, there had been a series of robberies on the very block you lived on, so every night after his patrol he wanted to make sure you were safe.  This particular night, however, had marked a week since the last time he had a solid eight hours at once, and the sugar rush and caffeine were wearing off.  He _should have_ gone right home, but he just wanted to make sure you were okay…he _had to_.

You had fallen asleep on the couch, watching a movie and letting yourself relax, until you woke back up to the sound of the DVD menu on a constant loop.  You sat up and tiredly fumbled around until you found the remote to turn off the player and television before shuffling to your room, making a pit stop to the fridge for a bottle of water.  Everything seemed relatively normal, until you faced the window as you crawled into bed and saw the Red Robin sitting on the fire escape outside your window looking half-dead.  You didn’t see any apparent injuries, but you couldn’t just _leave_ him out there.

Opening the window, you had to ask, gently, “Hey, you alright?”

Your voice jolted Tim awake, he must have dozed off by accident or he would have left the second he saw you.  If you asked why he was there could lie his way out, tell you something about…something.  Bets were, you wouldn’t ask, at least he hoped not.  Tim didn’t exactly like _calculating_ what his lie was going to be.

“Yeah, yeah.  It’s just been a long…couple of days, really,” he replied, rubbing at his eyes as best he could through his mask.  He couldn’t just _tell_ you, it was a tightly kept secret even in the hero community.  He watched as you grabbed the water bottle off of your bedside table and handed it to him with a smile.  What was he doing?  What was he thinking?  He wasn’t going to regret this, but it sure as hell wasn’t a promising idea.

“Actually, can I come inside?  It’s about your friend Tim-“ he didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before you grabbed his hand and pulled him inside your bedroom, bombarding him with questions.

“Slow down, slow down,” he gently coaxed you to stop, making sure you were calming down before he took off his mask.  He _really_ hadn’t gone about this in the best way, because you were practically hyperventilating into your hands.  In your right mind you might have even been able to figure out it was him, but you were clearly anxious as he removed his mask.  You took a minute to yourself, completely frozen as you decided your reaction, before you grabbed a nearby pillow and started beating Tim with it.

“You jackass!  Why did you worry me like that!” you snapped as you continued hitting Tim with your pillow, as he blocked the attack with his arms and ducking his head, “You feather-brained jackass!  I’m going to harass you with bird puns until you _die_!”

Well…of all the possible reactions this was hardly the worst.

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

As endearing as it was that he was making sure you could protect yourself, but Alfred was absolutely _insistent_ that any and all lessons take place _outside_.  With the winter weather, you were hoping you’d be able to sit back and enjoy a hot cup of tea and kicking Damian’s ass at Mario Kart without getting bruises. 

Seriously, it was getting ridiculous.  Self-defense was one thing, but this was well past that.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you deadpanned, with the turn of the weather you hadn’t bothered with bringing a spare set of clothes to change into as you were _not_ screwing around in the snow.  The roads and the skies were clear, but there was still _three feet_ of snow outside and you were _not_ in the mood to freeze in it.  What was Damian planning on doing next?  Teaching you how to properly wield a _tire iron?_

It was never a topic of conversation, beyond a brief statement of the obvious, but everyone was well aware of the fact you were at risk simply because you were close to Damian, and not because he was a Wayne.

“I do not _kid_ about matters such as these,” Damian replied sharply, arms as he waited for you to follow him through the halls, “I won’t always be able to protect you.”

“Well, Batman and Robin have yet to let me down so- _hey!”_   You didn’t have the chance to finish your argument before Damian let out an angry scoff as he rolled his eyes before grabbing your wrist and dragging you through the halls.  Just what in the hell was he doing?  Wasn’t there a grandfather clock there?  What’s with the creepy staircase, _oh god was he taking you to a murder basement?_   It would be your luck to end up friends with a real-life Dexter…

You stood at the bottom of the staircase to the Batcave in shock, eyes wide as you took in the scene before you.

“This…explains some things…”


	9. Preferences: Enemies (AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was amazing how one small thing could change someone's life so drastically.
> 
> One wrong move, and you would have found yourself fighting the very man you loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started as a 'what if?' imagining of Dick becoming a Talon, then it turned into this.

# Preferences

### Enemies (AU)

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

Your father’s business was already well on its way to becoming the international syndicate you turned it into, you just…gave it a little _push._   You had no _real_ reason for this, besides decades of both mommy _and_ daddy issues building into a rebellious streak which transformed into a lifestyle of doing whatever you damn-well pleased and let the world go _fuck_ itself.

You were smart about it too, took the Bat over a year to put the pieces together.  Your people were non-violent, and the ones that weren’t had been… _taken care of_.  You had been spreading your reach until it gained a life of its own, and by then having Batman’s attention was nothing more than _amusing._

“You’re slipping,” you taunted behind your desk in your large and ornate office, lips curled into a smirk as you sat back and watched the Bat for any sign of irritation.  There was no response, so you changed your approach as you leaned forward with your arms crossed on your desk and pouted.

“How are you _ever_ going to get your city back?  You don’t even have enough to convince the Commissioner to arrest me, let alone a DA to charge me or a jury to convict me.  Even if you did, I’ve got all the important people in my pocket and I’d be free and victimized within the hour,” you saw a small reaction, but knew he was keeping a poker face as he calculated a way to regain control.  He had come to you with the intention of threatening you, but you were far too clever for that. 

He had only met you a few times when you were a young girl, but you had such _promise_.  You were brilliant, bright-eyed, and pushed by a desire to explore and learn, experiment and discover.  It wasn’t an excuse, but your parents had corrupted you in their greed and desire for money and power, turning you into a powerful woman who did as she pleased.  You had no care for money or power, you just got _bored_ , and when you got bored you picked up whatever seemed interesting.  You had charged the other criminals for your _assistance_ in helping them succeed in their plans.

There was more to it than that, something has destroyed your faith in humanity.  They were nothing more than toys and puppets to be played with.  That much was made clear.

“You could have helped protect the world.”

You snorted as you picked up your half-glass of bourbon, swirling it around as you answered simply, “Humanity is nothing but bastards and selfish fools.  They don’t even deserve to be treated like the mindless playthings they are.”

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

The Court of Owls had snatched up the orphaned boy before anyone else could, his disappearance had been featured on the news for a total of ten minutes before the city was made to think the Grayson’s _never even existed._   Bruce Wayne, specifically Batman, took an interest but even he found no answers.  Nothing solid, at any rate, and while he had suspicions there were bigger things that took his attention only two years later.

Specifically, the hit on your parents which ended in the casualty of your sister and almost you as well.  You, yourself, barely survived and when you awoke everything you said was taken as some fever dream.  You were certain it was not Batman, but the woman had a mask like an _owl_.  Bruce Wayne took you in out of the kindness of his heart, it seemed, until he offered to allow you to get revenge on the owl-masked woman.  He had to help you, he recognized the look in your eyes and knew you were going to end up like him if he didn’t.

Considering your target was the Court of Owls and your family had been killed by a Talon, that would certainly end in your death if he didn’t help you.  With time, you trained until you could face the Talon and lock her in a freezer buried in a vault only you had the key to, but it was only a matter of time until another Talon was chosen to replace her.  The Court had been willing to let you go, but after you eliminated one of their own Talons, they couldn’t just let you be anymore.

Even without the Batman, you had become a thorn in the side of the Court and had made it your personal mission to take them down.  It had seemed this threat of vengeance never stood a chance of fruition, until you began cornering members and finding valid proof that could uproot the secrecy of their society.  It was then they sent the most promising of their Talons after you, the youngest, and the only remaining descendant of the first. 

Their assassins were not emotionless, but they had been _manipulated_ into believing what the Court of Owls said.  This one in particular had been easy, just telling the grieving boy he could have vengeance for his parents and create a world where such tragedies never happened again caused him to throw himself into his training, initiation, and _transformation_ with a passion not seen since his ancestor.  You were gifted, clever, and brave.  In another world you would have made an excellent Talon yourself, but Richard knew his orders and he couldn’t allow you to further hinder the Court of Owls.

You would give him the slip, break free and disappear for days until something lured you right back out again and he would make another attempt.  He was determined, and he was good, you’d give him that.  You didn’t _want_ to start taking out Talons, after looking into what they really were you couldn’t help but feel they were just as much victims as you and your family.  They weren’t making it easy, and Batman had _repeatedly_ informed you treating every Talon was not realistic, but all you had to do was get that _one_ to listen to you and it could all come falling apart.

Only having access to the Talon _actively_ trying to kill you, however, made things difficult.

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

You had been picked up by the government when you were a child.  They couldn’t just let you get away with hacking into the Pentagon for grins and giggles, especially since you weren’t even in high school at the time.  By the time your training was finished you were the best, and as the years passed you only grew better.  It was only reasonable that you be handed the cases that dealt with Batman and those most closely connected to him.

Namely, the Red Hood.

While you could leave the others to do as they pleased, you couldn’t just let the gunslinger go around killing whoever he pleased.  Murder of criminals was still murder, and there was no telling what his actions would cause.  He made multiple attempts on Batman, Nightwing, even the latest in the string of Robins had been put in great danger.  You couldn’t let it stand.

Even if he did turn out to be a former Robin brought back from the dead, you had to bring him in.

You were a wildly unnecessary complication; one Jason didn’t want to deal with.  He would if he had to, but even in his fevered anger he recognized you, just like every other law enforcement _professional_ , were simply doing your job.  You were good at it too, a trait which only made you more attractive than you already were, a feat in and of itself considering you were normally found in some variety of darkly colored pant suit.

Your role changed, as his own changed, and he ran into you undercover more and more often.  You cut him some slack, but not enough to make him think he could just get away with anything.  You would arrest him in a _second_ if he gave you a reason to, and part of you really wanted him to.  You had mixed feelings about vigilantes as it was, they made your life and career a few _million_ times harder than necessary.  Yes, there are times when they are necessary but…

You can’t let them just go around _killing_ people.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

Your father had been a good man, a surgeon for the sake of helping people.  Your mother, however, was a scientist for the sake of _science,_ your typical mad scientist to the point you became a subject of one of her experiments.  Well, _experiment_ was the wrong world, she was as certain as possible what the outcome would be, all the way to what psychological effects having the ability to survive a bullet to the brain would have on a person.

To someone who could survive _anything_ , even a fight with the Justice League or getting a chunk bit off of you by Killer Crock, there really wasn’t much hold the rules of society had on you.  You had a living to make, and it wasn’t your fault wet work paid the best.  Besides, what the hell else were you _supposed_ to do when you could regrow your fingers, and theoretically entire _limbs_?

You were so wildly unpredictable, even Tim couldn’t figure out what you were doing let alone _why_ you were doing it.  You claimed it was all for the cash, but the passion you put into that last job you did said otherwise.  You found your way into one of Lex Luthor’s hidden labs and damn near destroyed the entire thing, and you got no money for it.  If you were really in it for the money, you would have picked up one of the _many_ bounties on a vigilante.

You _loved_ foiling Red Robin’s plans, almost as much as you loved proving him _wrong_.  It was too much fun, even with the mask he looked so _baffled_.  The first few times he just _froze_ , like he couldn’t even figure out what was going on.  You were a reckless juggernaut who rushed into a fight and walked right back out as wounds, even fatal ones, melded in a matter of minutes.  You had some idea what caused your abilities, and how they worked.  In the meantime, nobody in the entire _League_ , let alone the Titans who most commonly faced you, had the faintest idea how your abilities worked.  Clearly you had never been exposed to the Lazarus pit.  For all intents and purposes there was no sign of _anything_ that would cause your powers.

The mystery continued.  You weren’t some heartless killing machine, you stared down a member of the Society of Assassins for someone you didn’t even _know_.  You sure as hell didn’t get _paid_ for it.  None of this made you a _good_ person, your answer to criminals was throwing them into a woodchipper…

But you weren’t _bad_ either.

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

They should have _left_ you there, or killed you along with your parents, but instead you found yourself picked up and raised in the same organization hired to kill your parents.  Trained from the ground up, by your teen years being an assassin for hire was everything you knew.

After a series of arrests, as well as multiple members of the Society being seen or captured on video, the Society of Assassins was picking up a new tactic, the very same tactic that landed you in Gotham and responsible for every hit in the area.  The Society wasn’t stupid enough to accept contracts for big name targets, like Batman or Superman, but they weren’t about to go around taking out targets that other organizations already had their eyes on.  The Society wasn’t about to get involved in a war with the Court of Owls or the League of Assassin’s.

You were, frankly, just a contract service for the best assassins for hire in the world.

You, yourself, never worried about that part of the business.  You just killed the targets you were pointed towards and collected the reward, and chased after dumbasses that thought they didn’t have to pay.  You fully intended on staying clear of Batman and Robin.

Well, mostly Robin.  You recognized his combat style.  Even if he was holding back, it was obvious where his roots were: The League of Assassins.  He was precise in his strikes, attacking just shy of lethal, every way he carried himself displayed he was highly trained and always aware of his surroundings.  You’d caught sight of him fighting, recognized his fighting style and the way he wielded a blade, or the occasional pipe he grabbed from a moronic thug.  You were hoping to avoid him specifically, as you had been taught to avoid the League as a whole.

Assassins from ancient cults don’t react well when they find out assassins for hire are, always have been, and always will be better.  You found yourself caught red-handed, literally, as Batman and Robin blocked off any other exit from the office you were in, with the exception of the 80th story window behind you.  You ducked to the side as batarangs were thrown towards you, imbedding themselves into the thick glass of the window, and you grabbed the, now deceased, business man’s desk chair and threw it at the damaged window.  With a dangerous shatter, the window broke and you leapt out.

Dashing across rooftops and practically swan-diving from the top of a skyscraper was nothing new to you.  What _was_ knew was the young man, approximately your age, chasing after you.  Practically skidding to a halt, you spun on your heel and blocked an attack before the two of you were trapped in a one-on-one battle.

“Not bad, for a _League_ kid,” you taunted, as the two of you remained locked in battle.  Your smirk grew as his frown did, you could _feel_ him glaring at you through his mask.  You snickered after you _made_ an opening for you to slip free and take off, your amused cackles echoing through the dark Gotham night.

Looking over the edge of the rooftop you had left him on, Damian couldn’t help but wonder just _how_ you slipped free of him.  When did the Society of Assassins recruit teenagers?  Your range of skills was wide, wider than any other members of the Society, but included skills patented by infamous members of the Society both living and dead.

You…you were _raised_ in the Society…


	10. Request: Confronting The Bat (Bruce)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because you told Bruce you knew about his 'batty' lifestyle didn't mean the conversation was over...  
> Then again...you didn't exactly let him talk...

# Request

### Confronting The Bat

Alfred opened the door the second your foot hit the stoop of the ornate front door of Wayne Manor.  You stepped inside, following Alfred as he led you through the expansive home, through a small doorway, down dark and dank steps, finally stopping at a massive cave underneath the home.  Your eyes were drawn directly to the car you knew you had at least _some_ part in building, then a _questionably_ legal jet with bits and pieces you had worked on as well.  As you looked around, you also saw the suit your boss was wearing, recognizing the tri-weave titanium you had developed when you finally had the funding to do so.

Getting funding wasn’t exactly an issue in Wayne Enterprises, as long as you weren’t building a literal murder-machine.

You had developed the armor with law enforcement in mind, allowing them to move quickly but still receive the same amount of protection as heavier body armor.  You hadn’t expected it to be turned into a suit for the bat, and while you had to admit it was impressive and could see how it would be intimidating, you also had to admit it was probably the best application for your creation.  He had the training to make use of the light weight and maneuverability, the necessity for the armor in both close-combat situations as well as a need to protect himself against firearms, and the need to look intimidating.

A shame you weren’t, the least bit, intimidated.

“Were you ever going to tell me, or was this all part of a diabolical plot put together by the old Fox?” you asked as you walked over to the massive computer.  Robin, _Tim_ , was typing away as Bruce watched over the teenage boy.  The man’s attention was brought directly to you as you spoke, the younger vigilante briefly shifting his eyes to glance at you before immediately returning to his work.  He was _not_ getting involved, not like Alfred had.  The wise old butler was peeved Bruce’s crusade had profited so much without your knowledge, though like Lucius Fox he was of a mind that you should have been recruited _immediately_.

Lucius was _hoping_ to retire at some point in his life, and you clearly had something to contribute to the efforts.  Furthermore, you were willing to.  It was a bit presumptuous to say so, but Alfred was certain.  Otherwise, he never would have near constantly brought up that particular fact with Bruce.

The billionaire saw the way you were standing with your arms crossed, clearly just as amused as Alfred was after Bruce returned from the years he spent traveling the globe training to become _The Bat._   He attempted to explain, only got a few words out before your attention was brought back to the jet, the _Batwing_.  You were running through things you could improve, based on what you could see, along with certain repairs that could be turned into new features or-

_Oh!_   You could rework that sensor you were working on and attach them to the car and the jet to give them 360-degree sensibilities.  _Oh!  Oh!_ You could connect the two so anything the jet picks up on its sensors the car picks up as well, and visa versa.

Bruce was in the middle of explaining why you should forget everything you saw, Tim had heard it before, but you weren’t hearing it _at all_.  You made your way over to the jet first, walking right past Bruce and even bumping him with your shoulder by accident, before you started examining the jet.  You even grabbed the nearby toolbox to get a better look inside the already impressive feat of engineering.

“I don’t think she’s listening to you anymore,” Tim spoke up, barely holding back his laughter as you got to work.  If Dick and Jason were there, they’d be literally laugh so hard they would fall over.  The only other person who had the balls to pull a stunt like that was Alfred, and even he kept those moments to a minimum as he was, if only officially, the Wayne family butler-even though he would always be part of the family.  You were a Wayne Enterprises employee who just didn’t give a _damn_.  You just sassed your way into the Batcave, sassed Batman _to his face_ , then ignored him for an inanimate object.

Tim kept snickering as he hacked into Black Mask’s ‘secure’ computer network, and broke out into a raucous laughter when you called over, “Hey Bats!  I need a soldering iron!”

Karma was a wonderful thing.


	11. Preferences: Arkham AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the result of binging on the Arkham series, I came up with this.
> 
> I know Damian isn't in the series, but I refuse to believe that as I have about half a million headcannons about that.

# Preferences

### Arkham AU

 

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

The secret was out, the world knew the man behind the cowl.  Bruce had contingencies for this, many of them, but there was only one in particular he could even imagine using.

_Knightfall_.

It was clear that was how things would end, even before Scarecrow attacked Gotham, before Quincy Sharp opened Arkham City, and even before Joker infected himself with the Titian serum.  Bruce knew, he always knew from that day, there was only one way this ended.  It was the only it could end, the only way he would be able to make peace with myself.  It was a selfish act but…

But you always told him to do what would make him happy, what would give him peace.

Bruce hated himself, entirely because he couldn’t kill the Joker for what happened to you.  You had been so tortured, so abused, it took years just to allow you out of a straightjacket, and when they did…

You couldn’t face the memories anymore, the suffering.  One brief moment, and you were _gone_.

You were at peace, he hoped.  He wanted to tell himself you were asleep in your coffin, but the pale complexion of your skin and stiffness in your joints said otherwise.  He chose to remember you as you _were_ , photos of you suddenly becoming his source of joy.  The smile on your face, the sparkle in your eyes, the blush on your cheeks as you laughed.

As the charges were set, as he gave up convincing Alfred to leave for his own safety, Bruce could only hope he would be able to see you again.  If there was such a thing as an afterlife…all he wanted was a single _minute_ to hold you again.

_Just. One. Minute._

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

Having been born and raised in Bludhaven, the last thing you ever wanted was to step foot in Gotham on a _normal_ day.  Now there was some freak threatening to drug everyone in the city and a younger Batman with an army and _tanks_ taking over the place.  You just wanted to leave Gotham to fester in the pit of despair it was on a _good day_ , and let it burst into flames if that was what it was going to do.

Nightwing, your damn partner, just _had_ to go and drag you into whatever war his mentor was involved in.

You didn’t work particularly well with the Bat, causing Nightwing to coax you into tracking down Two-Face and taking him in on your own.  You dropped the former attorney off at the barricaded GCPD before Batman reached you through your communicator.

_Cobblepot has Nightwing, I’m sending you the coordinates._

You doubted Batman was willing to let you deal with Penguin and his goons your way, they’d be breathing but will have lost use of one or more extremities.  That was assuming they all had all four limbs…

You held back, barely, as you cleared out the warehouse and let Batman take Penguin away to GCPD.  Looking back at Dick with a frown, he immediately attempted to raise your mood with his trademark grin.  You responded simply by staring at him, silently and unblinkingly, before turning on your heel and leaving the warehouse.  There was a watchtower a few blocks away, you figured you might as well blow off some steam by tossing some of the Arkham Knight’s men off a nondescript roof of Gotham.

“Oh, come on!” Dick cried out as he jogged after you, trying to make an appeal.  He wasn’t about to raise your mood, perhaps that was a good thing considering the situation the two of you were in, but he certainly didn’t want to be on your _bad_ side either.

“Gotham isn’t that bad-“

“Stuff it feather head!”

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

You weren’t a stranger to illegal jobs, they were your forte.  You heard about a growing militia in Venezuela and decided to check it out, if you got there early enough you could establish yourself as a combat and stealth specialist worthy of better jobs and better pay.  You’d been making a living as an agent in the private sector.

You were _the best._

That was exactly why you told the whiny little sergeant he could go fuck himself when he said you were going to be a medic.  You were willing to bet you’d snapped more necks that _month_ than that weaselly little asshole had the entire year.  You just walked right past the bastard, picked up a practice rifle, and made your way right into the combat tryouts.  The jittery little dumbass tried to follow you, but you had already disappeared into the training grounds by then.  All you had to do to get into the militia was survive for fifteen minutes against the commander.

Two hours later and you were the only one left, having long since abandoned the gun you picked up.  They all picked up guns, you figured it was like your pass into the training ground.  Like that indestructible neon bracelet you get when you’re allowed into a club, the one that isn’t quite plastic but is too indestructible to be paper no matter what it felt like.  You wouldn’t have grabbed the damn thing otherwise.  It’s not that you didn’t like guns or didn’t know how to use them, you just knew they weren’t always useful.

Guns have a very _specific_ range of efficacy, just like this _Knight’s_ sniper rifle was useless at short range.

He mentally kicked himself for assuming you would be just like the others.  He had seen career agents like you come in, acting like they were something special.  Compared to their fellow perspective soldiers they were, but compared to him they were nothing.  He assumed it would be the same.

Then you set off the charges you planted around the vantage points he had been taking advantage of, and he didn’t notice _any_ of it.  You were good, _very_ good.

“Let’s just get one thing clear,” you spoke up as the two of you kept a few yards between the two of you, catching your breaths after nearly two hours of battling just each other, “I don’t work for our contractors, I work for you.  You leave, I’m gone.”

“That’s a strong statement, considering you don’t even know you’re hired yet,” Jason retorted, his voice filtered through his helmet, as he rolled his shoulder and made sure he put it back into the socket correctly.

“When I was 21, I spent an entire year taking out my targets with explosive rubber ducks for shits and giggles.”  You gave your wrist one last snap to make sure it wouldn’t need anything more than a brace and some meds for the next 24 hours as you added, “I just want the good jobs and appropriate pay.  If sticking by you gets me that, then I’ll stick by you.”

“Report here tomorrow, 0700.  You’ll be testing the new recruits until I have something else for you to do.”

As the Knight left, you made sure to watch.  Didn’t matter what was under that helmet, the man was one tasty dish you didn’t mind following-as long as you got to appreciate that view.  Still, you kept your word.  When Scarecrow began to take over the militia, and the Knight’s personal grudge against the Bat created a distance between him and the militia, you were done.

You worked for the Knight, not some freak that would have drugged you if you hadn’t grabbed him by the face with one hand and held a grenade in the other.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

You were supposed to be out of the city, but you remained.  You were just an intern in the DA’s office, acting as a liaison between them and the GCPD, and a law school student.  That was the official title, the truth was you were part of a peace-keeping attempt, as a massive rift had formed between the DA’s office and the GCPD after Harvey Dent’s turn and later after it became evident that the DA had privately supported Quincy Sharp.

You couldn’t give any genuine legal advice, but you could still do legal research for them and you were still an invaluable asset to the GCPD and couldn’t bring yourself to leave them.  They were your people, they were your family, they even celebrated your successes in school with you and went so far as to plan a night out to celebrate.  It had nothing to do with the fact you had been best friends with Barb since you moved to Gotham, though that was what got you the internship in the first place.

You only got about eight bucks an hour, and you didn’t think you would be paid for your work, but you couldn’t leave them.  Your best friend was Oracle, and you were Barb’s assurance that her father was safe.  Tim, however, didn’t see it that way.  He didn’t want you in the city, he wanted to put you on a Wayne Enterprises jet to _Hawaii_ because it was literally as far as you could get without having to worry about a passport. 

If you had an up-to-date passport you’d be on your way to _Australia_.

Tim was proud of you, proud of the person you were, proud of everything you did to help the GCPD and the kids they brought in that just needed someone who could stick up for them against the DA or the GCPD.  You cared, and even though you were so careful about who you let see behind your carefully constructed walls you loved everyone.

The second he found out about Barbara, the first thing he did was check up on you.  You weren’t untrained, but you weren’t capable of taking on anything of this magnitude.  You weren’t stupid, you knew you couldn’t leave the GCPD, but Tim worried.  Hell, he was about to leave the lab in Panessa Studio before you told him Gotham would be better off as a warzone than if those Jokers got loose.  Back at the studios, Tim was wishing he had proposed earlier.

It was a long shot, but perhaps you would have actually listened when he asked you to leave.

Then again, considering you helped him stop Two-Face’s latest scheme only _hours_ before the two of you were supposed to take off for your honeymoon, it was obvious you were never going to leave Gotham, and especially Tim, when danger was near.

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

To this day you still didn’t know what made someone hire the Society of Assassins to kill your family, but you had long since moved on.  Talia had rescued you, a young eight-year-old only a year or so younger than her own son, and brought you to safety.  In the League you were trained, taught, and made strong.  While you couldn’t say you believed every word Ra’s Al Ghul said, he was crazed, but you weren’t there for him.

You were there to repay your debt to Talia, a debt that could never be repaid, and you were there with the only friend you really had: Damian.

After his mother’s death, the teenage boy was left in limbo.  Your influence had… _tainted_ what Ra’s wanted, even at the early age of eight you carried enough of a personality to prevent Damian’s ascendance.

You. Ruined. Everything.

Without you, the civil war following the failure of Arkham City never would have happened.  Damian would have immediately ended any attempts at a revolution had things gone to plan, but after his mother’s death the boy simply took you and _left_.  As far as Bruce Wayne was concerned, Damian didn’t exist, and as far as you knew Damian _planned_ to keep it that way.

He didn’t go far, he didn’t even leave Gotham, but he was still lost.  You saw it, you suspected even when Talia was alive you would have been the only one to recognize it, and as Scarecrow threatened the city he remained stationary.  You followed his lead, and you weren’t staying by his side out of duty or a favor.  He was your friend, your companion, you cared for him deeply and, if his instinct to place your safety before his against Scarecrow’s toxin was any evidence, the sentiment was returned.

The two of you were hidden and safe in Gotham, Scarecrow’s war held no fear for the two of you with or without his toxin.  It wasn’t until it was all almost over that Damian decided the two of you were going to get involved.  He made one attempt to keep you out of it, Bruce Wayne wasn’t your father to save, but as he saw you standing with your throwing knives and sword affixed to your person he knew there was no convincing you otherwise.    He didn’t know what was driving this decision, and you didn’t question it but instead let him just do what he wanted.  It was something he hadn’t been allowed in his 18 years, but you had been allowed to do as you pleased despite being nothing more than an average plebian assassin that happened to befriend the boy Ra’s Al Ghul had named his successor-in case Batman continues to decline the role.

As the two of you eliminated Scarecrow-permanently-with the assistance of the _former_ Arkham Knight as he dealt with Scarecrow’s guards, you could only wonder what you could do with Batman’s tech.  While the Knight’s skill and ability to eliminate the guards, whatever his methods, were useful and allowed you and Damian to reach Batman long before his identity was revealed, the Knight still had a decent amount of tech to work with.  The two of you had practically nothing. 

The two of you _actually_ had nothing, but that was far from the point.

It wasn’t until the civil war between the assassins became obvious that the son and father met.  You had met the Dark Knight a few times as he stopped the Demon’s attempts to destroy an entire city, and you knew he recognized you even after you had long since abandoned your uniform.  Batman couldn’t stop from asking you just _what_ had earned such unwavering loyalty from you.

“He…” you paused, thinking about how you wanted to phrase your answer.  It had to explain just how deeply the two of you were connected, but short enough to allow you to catch up to Damian after he had taken off after killing his grandfather.  It was unlikely Batman would chase after either of you, the man was still in shock by the revelation of Damian’s existence.

“He’s my partner.”


	12. Preferences: Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has secrets, but some secrets are more dangerous than others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few things.  
> 1) In case you don't know, Dick's secret is revolving around the whole 'faking his death to become an Agent of Spyral' dealie.  
> 2) I always had some kind of supernatural power or something in mind for the reader in the Damian preferences, there will probably be more about it later but I finally got it all figured out.

# Preferences

### Secrets

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

He kept a lot of secrets from you, too many.  You had found out a few of them, whether because you caught him off guard or you were always going to find out, but this was probably the _dumbest_.  Yes, you were busy with work in Star City, but eventually you were going to return to Gotham and, seeing as Damian had now been at the manor for a _month_ , there were no excuses to get Bruce out of this.

“I kept my peace regarding the other secrets you kept from her,” Alfred pointed out only seconds after Bruce hung up the phone and placed it onto the desk of the Batcomputer after ending his call with you, “But this is, by far, the worst.”

“I know, Alfred, thank you.”

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

Dick hated it, he felt sick.  He had to fake his death, even if only to allow himself some peace after his identity was blown, but lying to you about it.  Lying to _you_ about it.  He had to do it, he knew that, but that didn’t make it any better.  He watched from a distance as you mourned, struggled, and cried.  You officially retired your identity of Nightingale for a new one, then you just… _moved on_.

He knew you had to, he wanted you to for your own sake, and as he checked up on you to make sure you were alright he was glad you were alright.  You were alright, you were both going to be alright in the end.

That’s what he told himself as he sat on that rooftop, watching as you walked down the street with your date.

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

You stole, you killed people, you spied and supplied information to the highest bidder, good and bad.  None of that was a secret, it’s not like Jason was in a place to judge.  What _was_ a secret was how a clever young thief turned into the world’s most dangerous spy-for-hire.  You still couldn’t make peace with the fact you _chose_ to go there, you managed to rationalize going to a place where killing your fellow classmates was a regular occurrence.  If you didn’t kill when you were commanded to, you would die as well.  If you hadn’t burned down that hospital as you were ordered, you would have died.  You went there as a right of passage, everyone in your family had attended the academy and at eighteen it was your turn to do so. 

You burned that hellish place down in the end, you did what was right.  They kidnapped innocent people of all ages and used them, tortured them, manipulated them.  You did what was right in the end…even with everything they threw at you to stop you.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

Your mother’s name came up in an investigation, and implied a few things that concerned Tim.  He looked further into it, as he was prone to doing, and what he found was…troubling.  Your mother was assassinated, cleverly so, and was involved with a lot of bad people.  She was a genius, a terrifying genius who thought of nothing more than her next research project or the next thing she was going to develop.  At least, Tim hoped that was the case.  If it wasn’t…

You loved your mother, you fondly remembered afternoons with her after she returned home from work.  He couldn’t tell you the truth, he couldn’t tell you about her research for Lex Corp., or why Lex Luthor was so invested in your family.  He couldn’t ruin the smile on your face when you reminisced or shared stories of her.  Tim just couldn’t do that to you.  There was a risk you would find out on your own but…

As he watched you laughing, retelling the time you and your mother attempted making a layered cake and the entire thing just _fell over_ onto the floor with a _splat,_ Tim knew he couldn’t destroy the relationship you had with your mother.  Even if he had to lie to you, he was going to do what he could to let you remember your mother as you did.

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

All things considered, everyone assumed Damian would be the only one with secrets, or at least big secrets.  His mother’s side was a sore topic, to say the least, and it wasn’t until you actually met her that he came clean.  It took time, and you honestly believed he wasn’t _trying_ to keep secrets from you as much as there were simply topics he didn’t like to discuss.

The fact that he died and came back to life when he was little more than a child being one of them.

No, when it came to dangerous secrets you probably had the biggest one in the relationship.

Your parents were assassinated.  You knew that, your aunt knew that, Damian and his entire family knew that.  They were involved in some less than… _savory_ business that got them killed, that’s what happens when you get involved with bad guys and try to leave before they want you to.  None of that was a secret.

What _was_ a secret was the old book you kept locked in a small chest and tucked away in your closet.  It was a family heirloom in your mother’s family, passed down to the oldest daughter on her 18 th birthday, spending two years to study it before her role in the world became clear.  You could have opened it earlier, but you felt it was right to wait.  It was probably for the best, you likely wouldn’t have understood the contents of the book.

Spells could get pretty complicated.


	13. Preferences: Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of these take place before reader officially hooks up with the Bat-boy in question, with the exception of Tim and Bruce.

# Preferences

### Danger

 

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

Another Tuesday, another attack.  You really should have known better than to hit the bank on a Friday, but you needed to order a new checkbook and the automated phone menu was a little bitch.  Next thing you knew you were sitting on the floor as Two-Face and his gang robbed the bank and everyone inside it.  You managed to text Bruce _911_ before you were forced to hand over your phone and purse.

You stayed calm, it would all work out one way or another, as you looked around for something you could throw together to help.  All the computers were within eyesight of a goon with a gun, you couldn’t even dream of reaching any of the cameras, frankly there wasn’t anything you could reach from your seat in the middle of the lobby.  You couldn’t even seem to find a way to switch an alarm, you could only hope one of the tellers didn’t completely puss out and hit the silent alarm.

There had to be a way to work this out.  There had to-

With a terrified yelp, one of the gang members was yanked off of his feet and left hanging upside down from an ornate chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, a familiar black rope tied around his ankle and securing him to the light source.  He hadn’t even stopped swinging back and forth before the next thug was snatched and incapacitated, another was grabbed around the corner of a counter and choked out, and within minutes all two-dozen goons and Two-Face were incapacitated.  You caught sight of Batman, your eyes meeting briefly before parting ways.  You couldn’t be seen speaking without reason, it was too much of a risk.

After the scene was cleared, statements were taken and everyone was free to go home, it was a matter of minutes-maybe-when a sleek black car you recognized pulled up next to you.  With an amused smile you opened the passenger door and slipped in.  After a loving kiss, Bruce was beyond grateful you were safe and unharmed, you pulled away and couldn’t help but tease the man.

“So, looks like Batman puts in some daytime hours after all.”

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

You weren’t fond of the whole _splitting up_ idea, considering what these Talons were capable of, but even with Jason’s unexpected arrival there were enough of the assassins let loose over the city for every one of you to have your own to deal with.  It wasn’t easy, considering they were practically indestructible, but you all managed to pull it off.  At least, that’s what you thought.

You dropped the unconscious, and heavily drugged, Talon off at the meeting point but didn’t see Dick anywhere nearby.  Nobody had heard from him either, and considering he had recently found out he was the last direct descendant of the _first_ Talon, you were concerned.  Something just wasn’t sitting right in your stomach.  You had to go find Dick.

_Immediately._

You took off as quickly as you could, ignoring the pain as new wounds protested through pain, Alfred feeding you updates of Dick’s location through the communications unit in your mask.  The amount of blood you saw as you closed in on Dick’s location was concerning, and either way it wasn’t good.  Either Dick was in trouble or he stopped holding back and acted on the training he got during his time with Deathstroke.  Either way, it wasn’t good.

The snow on the ground made it hard to gain traction on the stairs down to the decommissioned subway station and your worst fears were concerned, Dick certainly was in trouble.  You saw what he was planning, though.  He got his ancestor to stand right under the subway cooling lines, and one well-placed shot to the lines would pour coolant onto the Talon-the one thing that could slow him down.  You might have been Dina’s protégé, but Ollie was sure to teach you how to shoot.

Grabbing the small, one-handed cross-bow you kept at your thigh, you quickly loaded a bolt and shot the weak point in the old pipes, coolant pouring down onto the old Talon and freezing him into unconsciousness.  You didn’t take the time to check, dashing over to Dick to make sure he was alright.  He had seen better days.  He had seen worse as well, but he had certainly seen better, and it was clear his great-great grandfather was in a class completely separate from all the other Talons that were let loose that night.

How else would he have managed to break out of his frozen captivity in the Batcave?

“Come on tough guy, let’s get you and the old man back to the cave.”

Dick smiled at you before pulling you into his hold, nuzzling into your hair.  He knew you’d show up.  He was prepared for the worst, but you always seemed to show up right when he needed you to and this was no different.

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

Dammit.

Dammit, dammit, _dammit._

You knew letting Jason return to Gotham was a mistake, even if it was to spend time with that blonde flight attendant.  You never should have shrugged it off, you should have argued.  Should have convinced him to talk her into meeting him at Metropolis, or even at one of your safe houses.

_Anywhere the Joker couldn’t get to him._

You left Kori and Roy to work with the Titans and take off to _actually_ find your missing team member.  They could deal with the drugged civilians, and considering who was left there was nobody who knew more about Gotham than you.  You knew who to ask, and you were chummy enough with the crazies of Gotham to get information from them.  Well, you were chummy enough with Ivy.

Still, the overpowered botanist new _everything_ that went on in the city, she just didn’t act because, outside of plant’s rights, she didn’t _care._

Calling in one quick favor, you supplied her with the last seeds of a nearly extinct plant a few years ago, and the roots of her plants tracked down a suspicious complex _underground._   Made sense, the Bat and his sidekicks tended to stick to vantage points and rooftops.  You didn’t have time to think about the details, you just had to get there, get Jason the hell away from that crazed clown, and kill the laughing freak if you had the chance.

You were already a criminal, one more death on the list of _dozens_ wasn’t going to change anything.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

Sure, Gotham’s variety of supervillains were psychotic, but Metropolis’ variety _flattened the fucking city_.  Seriously, one week without Superman crashing through a building was a _miracle_.  You appreciated what he did, but after observing the more tactful techniques of Tim and his family, you understood why Batman and Superman didn’t get along at first.  This was the second time you returned home for the holidays and ended up in a massive attack.

“You’ve gotta be _kidding_ me!” you snapped as you turned on your heel and started booking it down the street.  You stopped to help an adolescent girl who had tripped and pushed her to follow the crowd, but practically ended up trampled yourself.  Yup, your ankle was definitely going to be in pain seeing as someone _stepped on it_ , but you didn’t have time for that.  The fight was quickly making its way towards you and, now as one of the few straggling behind, you were likely going to end up hurt.

Where the hell was Tim?  That was the Metropolis Wayne Enterprises building, he had a meeting-

“Crap, crap, crap, crap,” you muttered to yourself as you got up and ran down the street, wincing through the throbbing in your ankle until you let out a shocked yelp, the result of being _literally_ swooped off of your feet and to the safety of an ally that would lead you to the evacuation zone.

“Oh, thank god,” you heaved a sigh in relief when you saw Tim was safe, and already suited up.  You took just enough time to pull him down for a kiss, one he returned despite how brief it had to be.

“I have to go help with the evacuation-“ Tim started to give you instructions you already knew were coming.

“Go home, where it’s safe, and stay out of the line of fire.  I know,” you cut him off, “Get going Red, and _be careful_.”

“Yes ma’am,” the nerd teased with a mock salute, before noticing you were _not_ amused.  He quickly kissed your cheek, told you he loved you, and took off.

“I love you too, dork.”

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

You had heard a few things about Damian’s mother, but you didn’t actually expect to meet her.  Then you did, when her assassins jumped you, nabbed you, and dragged you to her.

You weren’t at your strongest, and you wouldn’t be until you first touched and read the old Grimoire, and your true power would be bestowed upon you, whatever that meant.  Thing was, you weren’t going to open that book until you turned 18, it was the tradition and that was the only thing you had left of your mother’s family.  You could throw the average fireball, complete a garden variety séance, or even conjure a small barrier if necessary.

That didn’t change the fact you were fucking _ambushed_ by highly trained assassins after exhausting yourself via a 16-hour-shift.  Fighting back the instinct to start chucking fireballs or icicles at people, you struggled and relied on the training Damian had given you over the years.  That didn’t do as much as you wanted, there were a number of them and they already had the advantage before they drugged you.  You were in a daze as you were carried off somewhere, consciousness fading in and out until you woke in a sitting room decorated in red velvet.

Based on the rocking and the faint sound of water outside, you were in a personal boat, and an expensive one based on the state of décor.

You were alone with a woman, who you assumed was the reason you were there, and you only vaguely recognized her from browsing the many files on the Batcomputer.  Her particular file was password protected, and you were about to find out why.

“What are your intentions with my son?” she jumped right to business, and the gown she wore did nothing to give you the impression you were in no danger, it only made your hair stand on end.  You were in danger, you were in a _lot_ of danger.  You vaguely recognized the woman, but you recognized the décor and insignia of the Demon’s Head on the wall.  Even your own parents weren’t stupid enough to get involved with the League of Assassins, they were a _cult_ of highly trained terrorists, and considering your family history that was saying a _lot_.  You had to get the _hell_ out of there, and you were going to have to start throwing magic to do so.  You weren’t strong enough to take on your captors, but a fireball to the face always serves as a good distraction to cover a desperate escape.

“You’re gonna have to narrow down who you’re talking-“

The slamming of a door caught you by surprise, you hadn’t expected it, or the unconscious assassin thrown down the stairs into the decorated lower levels of the ship.  Everything stopped so suddenly, the aura shifting to one of a dangerous situation to a _very_ uncomfortable family reunion as _only_ Robin entered the room.  _Where the hell was Bruce?_

The truth was, Damian took off before Alfred even had a chance to alert Bruce of the change of events and Dick wasn’t about to stop his little brother.  This was something that had to be handled personally.

You saw the sword in Damian’s hand, you always knew he was the swordsman of the family but seeing him hold one in _earnest_ was more intimidating than you ever thought it would be as he flipped it in his hand with ease.  No words were spoken in the uncomfortable tension as he swiftly stepped over to you and freed you from your confines, pulling you along with him as he left.  Talia made an attempt to speak with her son, and was met with the blade pointed at her.  She was neither threatened nor amused, only struck with a sudden realization that her son wasn’t completely averse to killing.

“You would kill your own mother, for this _girl_?”

Your mind went blank, you knew Damian was protective of you but he wouldn’t...it's not like the two of you were dating (yet).

“ _Yes.”_


	14. Preferences: Secret's Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think these really fit the 'preferences' label anymore, but idk what else to call them so...
> 
> Meh.

# Preferences

### Secret's Out

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

You knew you returned to Gotham early, and you expected things to be a bit out of sorts when you returned, but finding a ten-year-old boy you didn’t know training in the Batcave was not on the list of things you expected.

“New Robin?” you asked simply, grabbing your box of tools as you planned to make your way over to the car to start on repairs, along with any upgrades you came up with on a whim, “What’s your name?”

“Damian Wayne,” he answered simply, firmly, knowing _exactly_ who you were.  Everything he knew about you was filtered through his mother’s opinions of you, all of which were negative, but that was the starting point of his opinion of you.  The pieces clicked into place quickly, that was easy enough to tell.

“And how long has he known about you?” you questioned.  You weren’t at all phased by the fact Bruce had a biological son, even without knowing his exact age it was clear he was born before you even sold your family company to Bruce, let alone started dating him.  The thing that bothered you was the fact the boy seemed so comfortable in the Batcave, and while that could be due to his personality-part of it definitely was-but it still struck you as odd that Bruce never brought up this little development.

“I’ve been living here for the past two months.”  Your reaction caught Damian by surprise.  Your concern was how long he was there?  You didn’t even seem phased by his existence, though you did begin rubbing your temple as you shut your eyes and curbed clear frustration.

“Clear channels of communication, that’s all I ask, Bruce,” you muttered to yourself, though you were loud enough that Damian could hear, “Just tell me things you batshit nudnick.”

If you were going to be a step-mother, you needed a heads up.  You remembered dealing with your father’s mistresses, you _hated_ them…you hated your mother too, but it wasn’t your fault your father only seemed attracted to money-grubbing bimbos.

Either way, you needed a heads up.  You weren’t going to try to convince the kid you should be best friends, having gone through the same thing with your father’s mistresses taught you that was the _last_ thing to do, but you still needed a heads up.

Of course, the fact that your source of frustration was the fact Bruce didn’t tell you of his existence was unexpected.  A purely logical reaction, one Damian could understand given the situation.  He watched as you decided to deal with it later and focus on necessary repairs to the car, it was all you could do until Bruce returned from the office anyway.  It was a reasonable, though wildly unexpected, reaction, and you didn’t seem to care less when you got grease stains on your jeans from working on the car.  Perhaps you weren’t the horrid creature he had been made to believe.  His father and Pennyworth already defied his expectations, after all.

Either way, the secrete of Damian’s existence, and the fact Bruce never told you, was out.  The second the man made his way to the cave, rushing after Alfred announced you had arrived around noon, you snapped.

“ _Two months_ jackass!  _Two months_ and not even a goddamn _text_?”

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

Angry didn’t even begin to cover it.

You were curious as to why Jason utterly _demanded_ you cancel your date and meet him on a rather nondescript rooftop in Gotham, if he really needed help he had plenty of people he could have called.  After retiring your identity of Nightingale, she was Nightwing’s partner and had no place without him,

Instead of Jason you found a Spyral agent, recognizing him for what he was through the trademark identity concealing tech, and _immediately_ took an offensive stance.  Retired or not, you kept yourself up to speed and in top shape.  You _had_ to.

Dick had two options.  He could fight you and _maybe_ get away, he’d be kicking himself for a month for hurting you but if he didn’t hold back you’d beat the shit out of him.  On the other hand, if he allowed you to see through the identity concealing implants and found out he lied about his death, you’d beat the shit out of him anyway.  What the hell were you doing there anyway?  You retired, the Robins were keeping an eye on you now that he couldn’t.  You already caught him following you once, and immediately informed the rest of the family that Spyral was following you.

 “Why the hell are you here and why were you following me?” you demanded before you added, “And you better hope Red Hood shows up, cause I’m not nice enough to let you die no matter how much you want to.”

_Goddammit Jason._

The other former Robin must have called the both of you there under the guise of _needing help_.  The bastard was probably watching somewhere, recording the entire spectacle.  Tim and Damian were likely in on it too, they’d been bitching to him about lying to you, but you had found a way to move on.  You had the family, you were as safe as could be, you, as Jason liked to remind Dick, still wore your engagement ring on a chain around your neck.

You were just as heartbroken as he was, but still struggling to move on as the anniversary of his faked death was growing closer.  You were trying, you were hurting but god, were you trying.  You deserved the truth, along with the freedom to punch him in the face a few times.  So, he gave in.  He held his hands up.

“Hey, pretty bird,” he spoke gently, calling you a nickname only he called you.  He knew that was a mistake, he should have just been upfront and honest, that was obvious when he saw the tears glisten in your eyes and the falter in your stance.

“It’s me, it’s really me,” he pressed, trying to help you grasp the truth as your eyes narrowed, you were beginning to see through the implants, “It’s Dick.”

It was, you saw him right there, he was the Spyral agent that followed you, he-

He expected you to punch him, he did not expect you to punch him so hard he was _floored_.  He should have, he knew you had one _hell_ of a right hook, but he was foolishly hopeful he’d get away with a bloody nose.  He shook his head to correct his vision, _fuck_ you hit hard, only a moment before you knelt next to him and pulled him into a desperate kiss. 

You were angry, you had every right to be and likely would be angry for a long time, but right at that moment you were just going to focus on the fact Dick was there, he was alright.

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

You had just packed up and disappeared over a week before Jason began looking for you.  You had enemies, a _lot_ of enemies, and it wouldn’t be the first time one of them tracked you down for revenge.  There was a lot of your life that even _Selina_ didn’t know about, the second you graduated high school you disappeared for _years_ before returning with a murderous edge and the ability to snap a man’s neck with your bare hands without a second thought.  For you to just disappear meant nothing good, and Jason began tracing your steps.

Three countries in two days later, and Jason found the first actual lead to where you had taken off to.  Issue was, it brought more questions than answer.  A 15-year-old girl, almost successfully, tried to sneak up on him to pick his pocket, with a technique you had developed and perfected by using it on _him_.  As he looked down at the small wrist he had grabbed, he saw the note clutched in the girls hand, and the steeled gray eyes looking up at him, cold and prepared to fight.

No… _kill_.

The hell kind of kid was she?  Jason himself had never been that cold, even the little demon spawn had _some_ emotion when he first showed up, but this kid was just _dead_.

He took the note she was going to slip to him and the kid just turned and left.  He recognized the scribbled script, it was yours, and it portrayed coordinates within the city.  Following them was an easy thing, once he grappled up onto a nearby rooftop, before making his way to the safehouse he was directed to and found… _kids_.  It didn’t look like any of them were adults, not legally, and none of them were younger than five or six but…

He recognized the look the older ones had.  They were seasoned, trained far too young, and he wouldn’t be surprised if some of them had killed.  This wasn’t _their_ safehouse, though, it was _yours_.  He recognized the taste in old movie posters and band posters covering the windows instead of the ever cliché newspapers and blankets.  There was a group of older teens cleaning weapons, some of the younger teens were making food while kids were surrounding the television as they played or watched others play games.  Twin-sized mattresses practically lined the floor, Jason had to step carefully to make sure he didn’t step on one of the make-shift beds on the ground, and nobody seemed too concerned he was there, like they were expecting him.

“She’ll be back in a bit,” one of the older boys said as he looked up from the repairs he was making on a collapsible blade, “Bugsie’s been keeping an eye on things and saw you flying in here, figured we’d help you out.”

A teenage girl, presumably ‘Bugsie,’ violently threw a pillow at the boy and snapped about how she hated that nickname.  As bizarre as the situation was, there wasn’t much Jason could do but wait until you returned-almost an hour later and covered in blood.  To your defense, most of it wasn’t yours.

“The Society won’t be a problem anymore,” you announced as you kicked the door shut and pulled the black cap you used to hold your hair back off, “Things are gonna be unstable for a bit though, since the local Society office is gone.”

“And here I thought I’d start getting answers instead of more questions when you got back,” Jason replied immediately, and your attention snapped right to him.  Some of the older kids started apologizing, _‘sorry sis, we thought he knew,’_ and you ended it by reassuring them they did the right thing.  This was your mess to clean up, your fault.

You should have come clean earlier, but the only reason these kids were still alive was because they were too young to fight you when you burned down the Academy.  You weren’t proud of killing your classmates, your _friends_ , and you wanted to keep Jason from finding out about _that_ as long as possible.

But it wasn’t possible to keep him from knowing anymore.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

You had desperately been trying to track down a flash drive to save your paper on, and grabbed the first one you could find.  You would borrow Tim’s flash drives to backup big school projects before.  After using one to save a research paper about Dr. Seuss, along with the matching presentation, you forgot to delete them after the semester ended.  That very same flash drive ended up used in a Titans investigation, spotted by the Titans, and Tim managed to keep them from just _dropping by_ the apartment for a grand total of 48 hours.

You handled the sudden intrusion fairly well, considering Tim was in the middle of a press conference at the time.

You thought nothing of grabbing one from the stash, and in retrospect this particular flash drive should have been hidden, but that didn’t change the fact that when you opened it and saw a file with your mother’s name in it you had to open it.  Tim was looking into something that involved your mother and he never told you?  He had told you about practically every other investigation, so something made this one different and if it involved your mother it involved you too.

You didn’t understand all of the science, but you understood the end results.  You saw the recordings of test subjects, her audio notes, video reports, and not once did she seem _uncertain_ in what she was doing.  The woman you loved and admired created technology that helped _criminals_ , and did horrible things to do it.  Her last project was probably the worst, if the recordings of _human test subjects_ was any indication.

You were speechless, utterly speechless, as you sat on the bed and stared at the laptop until Tim came home and found you in the bedroom.  You didn’t reply when he called out to you, immediately concerning him, and when he saw the flash drive you had in your laptop he knew why.  He rushed across the bedroom, shutting the laptop and pushing it aside so he could sit down and pull you into his arms.  You wanted to be mad at him for not telling you, wanted _someone_ to be mad at, but you couldn’t do that.  He didn’t tell you because he knew you loved your mother, and he knew what it was like to lose your mother.

Being mad at him wasn’t going to change what you had seen, and you needed him.

“She did some bad things, but she loved you,” Tim consoled as he held you close as you curled up into his lap, “She raised the best person I’ve ever known, and I think that’s pretty awesome.”

“I think you’re confusing me with someone else, I don’t have any siblings,” you joked through your sniffles before letting out a small yelp when Tim pinched your side as a response, before drawing out your giggles as he laid the two of you down to cuddle on the bed.

Tim had a lot of work to do, but right now being with you was far more important, and he couldn’t help but doze off only minutes after you did.

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

You opened the Grimoire on your eighteenth birthday, and every day since you continued getting stronger.  It didn’t make any sense, there were _limits_ to what people like you could do.  Nobody could do what you could.  Controlling one element was normal, the ability to manipulate one’s mind or pull the truth from their lips wasn’t unusual, even changing shape or healing weren’t unheard of.  You expected something along those lines, nothing out of the ordinary.  Something you could _hide_.

You couldn’t even figure out what your limits were, if there were any.  You thought it was a simple case of pyrokinesis, you could already control fire it was the reasonable conclusion.  Then, one day, you thought your ability was simple telekinesis when you stopped the glass your aunt almost dropped, the glass and the water in it simply floating in the air.  The next day you could _see_ the lies of the café owner as he tried to pay half what he agreed for your performance.  The next day, on your way home from work late one evening, you even caught yourself by surprise as the creep trying to make a move on you just froze, _literally_.

Things continued to escalate wildly, and you continued to pull further and further away from everyone.  You continued to practice at home, in the back of your aunt’s occult shop, you did everything you could to keep control-even if it was just long enough to go to school.  You were going to finish your senior year of school, you were determined.  You were already starting to get the hang of a few things, you just had to stay _calm_ , couldn’t let anything get to you, but sometimes that was a bit difficult.

Things were pretty easy before you met Damian, you were mostly ignored at school until October rolled around, when the jocks and popular girls felt _clever_ about poking fun at the fact your aunt had an occult shop.  It only got bad when you started dating Damian.  You didn’t want to care, most of the time you didn’t.  You were happy, and it wasn’t your fault he picked you over some airhead who got everything she wanted by crying to daddy and never knew disappointment in her life.

Being called a freak when you were struggling to deal with the fact that you were a freak, even within your own freaky family, hit a nerve.  You tried to ignore them as you walked past, on your way to the spot your normally met Damian for lunch, and you couldn’t even remember what was said or who said it.  All you remembered was it involved sacrificing your parents to the devil, and it struck a nerve. You stopped, gripping your lunch tray as you tried to contain yourself, but they kept going and you eventually snapped.

_Terribly_ so.

The lights in the cafeteria snapped and burst until the room went dark, pipes burst in nearby water fountains, and a gust of wind that was out of wind or even Gotham’s cold autumn weather blew the doors to the patio wide open and cracked a few windows.  Oh, _gods_ what had you done?  _What had you done?_   You snapped, you couldn’t believe you snapped.  You had been doing so good, you had control, you had training to help you keep control, they had never bothered you before.  Why did they have to bother you _now_ of all times?

You bolted, your old combat boots crunching against the broken glass of the lights littering the floor as you took off through one of the open doors to the outside.  What the hell were you _thinking_?  It was almost freezing outside, and based on the overcast it was going to rain soon.  You did stupid things, but _this_ was out of character, so much so Damian was noticeably concerned as he sprinted after you.  He’d be fine in the cold for a bit, but you didn’t have the stamina he did.  He caught up to you, and when you noticed you cried out for him to stay away.  He wasn’t going to listen, except the lightning that struck a tree only a yard or two away from him caught his surprise.  He _should_ have been hurt by that, the strike was too localized and _clean_ to be natural…

_You were doing this._

He had to calm you down and get you to safety.

_Quickly._


	15. Preferences: Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been thinking of a part 2 for the Enemies AU or exploring other AUs. Thoughts?

# Preferences

### Scars

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

He had a _lot_ of scars.  Some were attached to painful memories, some the result of his own inexperience during his early days as Batman.  Some were evidence of wounds that should have been fatal, others from wounds he barely even noticed he _had_ until he returned to the cave.  You couldn’t help but feel like every time you saw him, he had more.  You knew that wasn’t true, it was impossible for there to be a new scar _every_ time, but you also knew you hadn’t memorized where every scar was either.

That wasn’t accounting for the mental and emotional scars the man had.  You only hoped you eased the burden, maybe even kept new ones from forming.

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

You both had scars, though he had a few that resulted from wounds that should have been fatal while you had none.  It was the result of different fighting styles, literally _every_ opponent was bigger than you, so you had to take on a far more defensive style which allowed you to dodge every fatal attack, or at least make sure they landed somewhere else.  At his height, you were fairly sure the only people taller than Dick were Bruce, Damian after he grew up, Jason, and _aliens_.  He was able to take on a far more offensive tactic, though there was no doubting his maneuverability considering his acrobatic roots.  More offensive styles tend to have a more ‘high risk/high reward’ outcome, and there was no denying the risk when a bullet nearly pierces your lung.

Scars weren’t just part of the job.  They were part of who you were.

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

You tended to stick to the shadows and pick people off before they could even notice you were there, let alone reach you.  Even on your assassination jobs, you stuck to disguises and took out the target before sneaking your way back out.  You were hard to catch, hard to predict, and your wide range of training made it nearly impossible for those who were trained to pin down just what style of combat you would use against them.  The most noticeable scar was from when you had your appendix taken out.  It was Jason who carried all of the scars, and you knew _exactly_ what they were from.  After his unusually perfect revival from the Lazarus pit, he healed far faster and was far more resilient than your average human.  He rarely found himself badly injured, let alone scarred, anymore.  There were a few new ones, but not many.

The scars that were left, the largest majority of them at any rate, were from when he _died._  Physical representations of the emotional scars he carried.  Whenever you saw them, if you had the chance, you would gently run your hands down his back before wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him from behind.  You couldn’t help it.

When he died, you lost your best friend.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

He was a strategist, any scar he had was the result of an injury that couldn’t have possibly been avoided.  They all concerned you, he lived off of coffee and marshmallows you’d be a fool not to be worried, but it was the one from his splenectomy that most concerned you.  You were, in no means, a person who had much knowledge of science.  Still, you were a curious child and with a surgeon for a father and a research scientist for a mother, anatomy was just something they taught you until your own fascinations and interests surfaced.  You recognized the surgical cut and stitching, and you knew why it would have been placed in that location.  If he wasn’t careful, he’d _completely_ pass out, _or worse._

It only served to piss you off, considering how _little_ Tim seemed to take care of himself.  He wasn’t an idiot, he knew better, and _still_ he persisted!

You doubled your efforts in caring for him, to the point that you would _demand_ he put his work down and go to bed.  One time he continued telling you he’d go to bed, and as it became clear he wasn’t about to you decided to slip some sleeping meds into a glass of orange juice, after texting Alfred for some advice on drugging your boyfriend so he would get some sleep.  Tim noticed, of course he did, but by then he was already passing out.  The betrayed look he gave you as you tucked him into bed was both hysterical and adorable, and he _never again_ doubted your determination to make sure he was taking care of himself.

You might not be able to do much, but you’d do whatever it took to make sure he didn’t end up with any more scars.

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

You knew scars were part of his life, but that didn’t ease your discomfort at the massive scar that trailed all the way down his spine.  It was ugly and gave the appearance that his spine had been taken out and replaced at one point.  What was worse, it was _old_ and stretched as if it grew with him, like he got it when he was still young.  You never asked, you knew his family life was somehow just as complicated as yours even without spells and magic getting involved-with the exception of the Lazarus pit.  Then again, the Lazarus pit complicates _everything._

You spent a lot of magic doing what you could to make sure his scars were kept to a minimum, but you knew there was only so much you could do.  You knew there were going to be wounds that left scars simply because of how deep they were, Damian was only human.  You were a witch and, while you had a substantial amount of power, you weren’t a miracle worker.  All you could really do was make sure something as drastic as _whatever_ caused that one scar that caused your heart to wrench never happened again.


	16. Preferences: Cooperation (Enemies AU Pt. 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back by two requests, Enemies AU! I’m glad you guys liked this as much as I did, cause I actually really like the Enemies AU, more than I thought I would.

# Preferences

### Cooperation (Enemies Pt. 2)

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

The city was never going to be yours as long as that damn clown was around, and an angry undead Robin wasn’t enough to convince Batman to kill the crazed jester.  Something had to be done.

The plan practically made itself.  You weren’t one for field work and desired the best- _needed_ the best-so you simply _slipped_ your intel on the Joker to Bruce at a party, deciphering his identity wasn’t nearly as difficult as he would have liked.  To top things off, as far as the public was concerned you were nothing but a genius who had taken over her father’s company.  Your own fathers had been close business associates, and Bruce Wayne could not excuse himself from inviting you to professional parties when you were the victim of a long disappearance.

You had planned that disappearance to build your criminal enterprise, but Gotham didn’t need to know that.

Still, when you fed him the information, he reacted as you expected.  He was covert, but he still pulled you through Wayne Manor and into his study before demanding to know just what you thought you were doing.

“I propose a truce.  I can’t take control of the underworld while that cackling crackpot is around, and you know the world will be safer if I take his place.”  You certainly made yourself comfortable in the study as you leaned back against his solid wood desk.  Picking up a decoration you suspected one of the many children he took in made during an elementary school art class, you turned it over to examine it before carefully putting it back.  You watched as Bruce considered his options, wildly amused.  Good guys, even the clever _broody_ ones, always had some kind of tell.  You knew the _exact_ moment Bruce agreed, even though he spent almost fifteen minutes grilling you for details and assurances.

You weren’t going to betray the Dark Knight, you needed him if your plans to revamp the underworld of Gotham before you spread your reaches past the city, but you certainly weren’t a _saint._

A stealth generator was easy enough to put together.  Scanners and alternate view modes in Batman’s cowl and, you suspected, Robin’s mask would be able to pick you up.  Thing was, the two of them would be so focused on clearing the Joker’s latest hideout they wouldn’t be looking behind them.  Well, not until they had to.

Just because you weren’t one for field work didn’t mean you couldn’t handle a gun.

It took the dynamic duo by surprise, the familiar sound of a gun immediately followed by a bullet piercing its way through the Joker’s head, before you slipped the gun back into your jacket.  Neither made a move to stop you after your swift assassination of the Joker, a fact that was far more shocking than the gunshot itself.  There was a reason for that.  While you read Bruce like an open book, he saw a goodness in you that you didn’t even know was there.

Perhaps there was hope for you yet, as you controlled Gotham’s underworld.  Perhaps there was a goodness in you guiding these illicit actions.

Perhaps you could be saved.

****

****

**_Dick Grayson_ **

By nothing short of a miracle, and a massive group of effort, the first Talon found himself in the Batcave as you led the investigation into the Talon’s physiology and the mountains of intel you gathered.  Damian complained as he helped you search through it all, but never once did he actually made any real attempts to stop assisting you.  It was during this search you found the entire truth surrounding the Talon hunting you, and the orphaned boy Bruce tried so desperately to find and save.

A plan hatched in your head, a high risk/high reward kind of plan.  If it didn’t work, Richard Grayson would kill you.  If it did work, one of your brothers would kill you for being so selflessly reckless, or _try_ to at any rate.

As you stood in the center of the big top that once housed Haley’s Circus, having long since been abandoned after the entire park was shut down and the circus was ripped apart by one of their own, you were defenseless.  You were never _completely_ defenseless, but all you had were your civilian clothes, a zipline, and a manila envelope in which the secrets you _knew_ Richard Grayson didn’t know were enclosed.

You wondered just what made you so desperate to save _this_ Talon in particular.  You had recently been made aware of the Multiverse, having been working with the Flash team recently, and you wondered if that had a part to play.  There were certain constants in every timeline, every universe, and perhaps this… _connection_ was one of them.  You didn’t have any time to ponder the complexities before the Talon in question slipped into the tent and stared you down, standing between you and the entrance.

“Surrendering isn’t your style, Nocturne.”  He knew who you were outside of your alter-crime-fighting-ego, but he refused to call you by your own name even if you were unmasked.

“Sometimes it is, but not against people that manipulate my home and murdered my family,” you answered simply, calmly and softly despite the tension your words naturally carried.  You noticed the way he briefly froze, you struck a nerve, but he made no move to attack you.  There was no having an extended conversation with this man, maybe someday but not today, so you had to get the information into his hands and get the hell out of there.

“I found some information on your family I thought you should have,” you said as you tossed the sealed envelope to the Talon, who caught it with ease even as he watched you carefully.  You didn’t move, and fought the urge to shove your hands into your old Gotham University hoodie as you watched Richard Grayson open the envelope and pull out the pack of papers you prepared for him.  He immediately recognized the names on the first page, you had actively avoided placing the pictures of his parents at the front, you wanted to help him not bring up old scars.

He was entranced in what you gave him, allowing you to make your way towards the exit behind him.  You stopped briefly, standing close enough to say one thing before you left.

“Don’t do something reckless,” you pleaded before adding, “If you need anything, you know how to find me.”

You didn’t know what he did after that.  All you knew that a few suspected members of the Court of Owls met untimely ends before Richard Grayson disappeared completely.

You could only hope you did the right thing.

****

****

**_Jason Todd_ **

You had been raised to protect people and help them in their time of need, that was the point of ARGUS picking you up when you were a kid.  They instilled this desire in you when you were young, and that wasn’t going to change.

You had read reports detailing the conditions in Belle Reve Penitentiary.  Amanda Waller continued to tell you it wasn’t your concern, it was hers, but she wasn’t doing anything about it.  You couldn’t, in good conscious, keep sending women there if the correctional officers were going to rape and abuse them.  If Waller wasn’t going to do anything, and the Correctional authorities weren’t going to do anything, you had to take care of it yourself.  The problem was, you had no backup and you couldn’t just grab the nearest hero and ask for their help, it had to be someone who wasn’t afraid to get their hands dirty or have their face seen.

_Jason Todd._

People knew who Jason Todd was, but the second he threw on civilian clothes anyone who didn’t know him just assumed he was a normal guy.  He was far from it, but his sense of humor and generally sarcastic behavior immediately drew people to him, despite how much he wanted to _avoid_ people.  On top of that, he was a former Robin and a trained assassin.  He could throw on the uniform of a Belle Reve Corrections Officer and immediately blend in.

You just had to hope he’d be willing to help you.  Yes, Belle Reve dealt with some of the very supervillains Jason Todd would love to kill, but they were the minority in the large facility.  Most of the facility was filled with average criminals, even drug addicts being held on mandatory minimums were kept there.  If the sentence was a year or longer, there was a chance they could go to Belle Reve, even if they were arrested for going five over the speed limit with a Ziploc of marijuana.

There was also the little detail that you had made the official arrest that landed him in Arkham before he broke out.

Tracking him down wasn’t hard for you, after a while he stopped bothering trying to hide from you, just as you stopped bothering with arresting him.  While he may be breaking the law, there was no doubt that he was helping keep the peace and protect the weak.  He knew you stopped actively looking for him, which was why he was a bit surprised when you slid into the seat across from him only moments after Roy had left to grab some food.  You couldn’t hire Red Hood and Arsenal, that required funds you didn’t have, but they did have some sense of justice.

He looked at you like you were crazy when you told him the plan.  No, not crazy, but he _certainly_ thought you were being selflessly _stupid_.  Still, he agreed and as you met with him and Roy, it was clear you had it all calculated, all worked out.  Almost every little detail was accounted for, except for the chance the perpetrators would sink so low as to drug you and drag you off, claiming you needed to be taught a lesson.

That caught Jason’s attention immediately, and he followed close behind to make sure nothing happened. You had never been so relieved to see anyone in your life, and you didn’t give a _damn_ Jason’s first reaction was grabbing the gun he smuggled in and dealing with the men _permanently._   You were still dazed from the drugs, unstable and shaking from fear as he held you, making sure you knew you were safe.

“It’s alright, you’re alright.  You’re safe with me.”

****

****

**_Tim Drake_ **

You had been uncharacteristically inactive over the past few months, and the Red Robin was concerned.  You could be impulsive, jumping into something out of emotion with little to no real thought behind it.  You were intelligent, very much so, but you let your impulsive nature get the better of you at times.  He couldn’t help but track you down, during a down time for the Titans.  That was what he kept telling himself at any rate.

He didn’t have to look far, he found you lying back on the roof of your apartment building and watching the sky.  You looked away from the night sky long enough to glance at the caped crusader before you sat up and reached into a cheap blue cooler that sat by your feet.  You held up a cold, sealed, can of Coke and silently offered it to the former boy wonder.  He shook his head, and you shrugged opening the can and drinking it yourself.

“I half expected that cooler to have alcohol in it,” he pointed out, carefully making his way closer before leaning back against the armrest of the porch chair that sat on the roof.  You threw your jacket and a few weapons, in case of an attack, onto the chair but opted for lying on the ground as it was easier to watch the sky that way.

“Not old enough, and the store fired the old Irish guy that didn’t check for ID,” you explained before you quickly added, “All my fake ID’s are the same age as me, I was more focused on how to kill my targets than I was buying booze when I got them.”

“I guess that makes sense…” Red Robin admitted, though he mentally added that it was a rather morbid at the least.  Still, questioning your use of fake identification was not why he was there.  You were far more reserved than you normally were, something that caught his attention.  Before he could ask, you caught him by surprise.

“Am I evil?”

There was nothing philosophical about the way you asked the question.  In fact, your tone was quite blunt, like you were simply a child asking the question.  You weren’t looking at him, but based on your tone you were expecting an answer for a question he _didn’t have an answer to._   He was aware of your…unique relationship with your mother.  You loved her, up until she turned you into her own personal science experiment.  You hated her for years, and _mommy issues_ cause far more problems in a young woman than _daddy issues_.  That was until you found out just _why_ she did it, to save you from the man that was willing to kill you, just so your mother would deliver the same science that made you… _what_ you were.

_Lex Luthor._

All cause of some grudge against a boy scout in blue spandex pajamas.

“No.”

His answer didn’t surprise him as much as he thought it would, but he had always been someone who looked at the facts.  The facts were, you were made into what you were when you were a child and never once had a choice in the matter.  You were simply lost, confused, abused and left to a world where your only method of survival was becoming what you were, even if you didn’t know it until years later.

A single tear fell as you stared at the sky.  Red Robin wasn’t one to lie, not about something like this.  So, he didn’t think you were evil, but that didn’t change the fact you had a _lot_ of blood on your hands.  You had lived a life where killing a dozen men, at once, just to get information on the person you were actually contracted to kill was a _normal occurrence._

“You know, things would have been a hell of a lot easier if you just said yes.”

****

****

**_Damian Wayne_ **

You sure as _hell_ didn’t want the Dark Knight’s assistance, but you still needed someone’s help.  Tracking down any of the previous Robins would take a _lot_ of work, and some of them would even ask questions.  The youngest, Damian Wayne, according to your… _uniquely_ gathered intelligence, was familiar with the idea of working with demons to get the job done.  They all were, to some extent, but none of the others knew what it was like to be _raised_ a killer.

It was a living, but you found your way out and, while you couldn’t promise you would be _good,_ you could at least promise to leave the Society of Assassins behind, as long as you got your damn book back.  You didn’t care who took it, why they took it, or even where they took it.  You were going to get it back and _annihilate_ anyone who got in your way.

Assuming the Grimoire didn’t annihilate them first…or they didn’t use it to annihilate the _world_ by _accident_.

Robin had agreed, reluctantly, to assist you in retrieving your family heirloom-if only to get you out of his hair.  He wasn’t exactly aware of the dangers surrounding the book itself, or just how powerful an artifact it was, but as far as he knew that didn’t matter.  That was, of course, before things turned out to be more of a clusterfuck than you expected.  Your ability to throw fireballs or throw up barriers weren’t enough, and you were banking on the power the Grimoire would awaken in you.

“Where the _hell_ are you going?”  Robin barked as you took off, leap-frogging over one of the hypnotized goons and slipping through the rest.

“I’ll be right back!” you swore, and you were right back…sort of.  The change was made in your youth for a _reason_ , any older than 18-years-old and it caused immense pain, something you didn’t know until you found your family’s old book stashed on a shelf like it was some cheap grocery store novella to read later, an _impulse buy_.  You grabbed the book and yanked it off the shelf before the magic at its core, the connection it held to the core of the multiverse itself, reached you.

The second it did, it _actually_ felt like you were hit by a train as you collapsed to the ground.  You laid there, your body jolting as magic simultaneously killed and revived the nerves in your body and blended with your physiology in ways that couldn’t be understood.  It took minutes that felt like hours, and when it was all over you wanted to do nothing but curl up and sob.  It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much.

You couldn’t just lay there.  You were in enemy territory, and Robin had been left alone in the main foyer alone and surrounded.  The woman behind all of this would be dealt with, but you couldn’t deal with her in your current state.  You struggled to get back up, holding the book close as you literally stumbled through the room and down the stairs, keeping yourself from falling by clinging to the stairwell like it was a lifeline.

Robin was surviving, but with the numbers of mindless pawns who wanted nothing but to kill intruders you couldn’t exactly leave him.  Not when you were the reason he was there in the first place.  You still felt the pain of your new power flooding into you, it lit up your veins like they were on fire and put pressure on your bones like they were being crushed.  The sparking of electrocution through your muscles intensified as you raised your hand to do… _something_.  You didn’t know what, you had practice with fire, maybe something like that.

Or a surprise gust of wind that knocked everyone else in the room down.  That could work too.

Robin was the first up, demanding to know just _what in the hell_ you did and _what in the world_ you were holding, but now wasn’t the time.

“Later, right now we gotta get the hell out of here.”

He knew helping an enemy was going to bite him in the ass, and just like his father and brothers he goddamn did it anyway.


	17. Preferences: Best Date

# Preferences

### Best Date

 

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

You had a lot of good dates, literally every date you had with Bruce was better than any date you had with _anyone_ else.  He was the Prince of Gotham for a _reason_ , he practically owned the city.  You were at an age where a nice dinner and conversation was the date.  So, the nights the two of you just stayed home and did _nothing_ had to be your favorite.

At your age, Netflix and Chill actually meant binging Netflix and doing _nothing_ -and that was a beautiful thing.

Curled up on the couch, you were wrapped up in a blanket with Bruce’s arm around you as you binged the latest season of your favorite Netflix series.  It was all very domestic, something you never once thought would happen in your life, and it was perfect.

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

It seemed like every night was date night with Dick, he always went out of his way to make things special even if it was just collapsing on the couch and napping.  That being said, when he actually _told_ you to keep your schedule open for the night you were a bit surprised.  You didn’t have anything planned, other than packing.  Dick had recently purchased the very same circus he was born and raised in, and he wanted you to come with him when the show hit the road, literally.  You didn’t mind, you got along well with the others and enjoyed road trips.

Dick had spent most of the day at the manor, mostly bonding with the youngest of his brothers.  Unbeknownst to you, that was the last time Dick would speak with Damian before the youngest of the Robins died.  The boy’s snappish, though genuine, advice was beginning to stick in Dick’s head and perhaps would have taken hold had the family tragedy not happened.  That was why Dick found himself double checking the supports of the trapeze in the circus and setting up a net.

He may be an acrobat, but you studied gymnastics in necessity for the job.

The moonlight filtering in through the opening at the roof of the tent gave the scene a nighttime glow you could only find in Gotham, a backwards city with dark days and bright nights, and you followed Dick up the ladder before following his lead.  As you swung back and forth, he caught you as you jumped and never once let you fall.  Your giggles subsided as the mood changed, Dick sitting on the handlebar of one of the swings as he gripped the rope to keep himself sitting up, you sat facing him on his lap with your legs crossed at the ankles and hands on his shoulders.

“Care to explain why you planned a date for the first time…” you paused as you made a realization you never once thought about, “Since our anniversary.  Wow, we really are an odd couple.”

He chuckled before kissing your temple and answering, his cheek pressed against the side of your head, “Just been thinkin’.”

“That must have hurt,” you teased, letting your arms fall to wrap around Dick as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

“Wow, here I am about to profess my undying love, and you go and insult me,” he joked in return, not bothering to hide the smile gracing his lips, “That hurts babe.”

“Well, someone’s gotta keep your name from becoming a description of your personality.”

_“Oh!_   Low blow!” Dick burst into laughter, proud his girl could be so quick on the draw. 

You had to be, considering he was planning on spending the rest of his life with you.

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

Every time you tried to go on a date, it turned into a disaster.  The job just would _not_ let the two of you be.  You had tried everything; going to dinner, going out for drinks, the movies, a play, you even tried a damn carnival.  It turned into a masked crusade of justice _every time._   The best date, however, had to be the time you made it almost _entirely_ through the Panic! At The Disco concert, Jason claimed it was a present for you, but he was the one that grabbed you to dance along to Death of a Bachelor.

The two of you were _so close_ to making it through the entire concert without incident, though you had to admit…

Taking out baddies to a live performance of Hallelujah was too much fun, and you _know_ you caught Jason humming along no matter how much he denied it.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

He did his best to keep you and his life as a caped crusader separated, for your safety, but there were times it didn’t work out so well.  Sometimes, however, he went all out to make sure it did go well.  One of those times was your 20th birthday.  He knew what you wanted, a simple night out with just the two of you, and he was determined to give it to you.

Your favorite place to go was a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant a short walk from Gotham University, and the two of you had some of your best memories there.  You were already thrilled with the night when he brought you to your favorite little dump of a restaurant, but you were taken surprise when he ordered the food to go.

Just because you wanted a quiet night with just the two of you didn’t mean Tim wasn’t going to start getting creative and putting his own spin on things to _make sure_ you had the best night possible.  He paid and grabbed the bag of food as you grabbed the sodas.  After tossing the sodas into the paper bag of food, Tim grabbed your hand and led you down the street, on and off of the subway, and all the way to Wayne International Plaza.  The artistically beautiful building was right on the edge of Gotham, allowing the best view of the city on one side and the bay leading out to the Atlantic on the other side.

Wayne Enterprises Tower was a beautiful building in the middle of the city, but it had nothing on the view from the roof of Wayne International Plaza.  The way you lit up when you saw the view from Bruce’s office on the top floor, Tim couldn’t wait until you saw the view from the roof.  After all, the balcony only offered view of the city.

“You trust me, right?” Tim asked as he handed you the food, holding his grappling hook in one hand and preparing to hold you with his free arm.

“I share a bed and a rent check with you,” you retorted, “I’m gonna’ have to go with _yeah_.”

Tim couldn’t help but smile and kiss you, you were never at a loss for words, as he held you close with his arm snugly wrapped around your waist.  You draped your free arm over his shoulders as he aimed at the roof before firing the grappling hook and pulling the two of you upwards.  You yelped, you couldn’t help it, as you were yanked upwards but the two of you made it up to the garden roof all the same.

That garden gave you the suspicion there was a maintenance hatch, but you weren’t about to argue with Tim’s methods.  The view was wonderful, breathtaking, and the sky was the clearest you had ever seen in Gotham.  You looked up and around as Tim pulled out his phone and started a mix of your favorite songs.

“You always think of everything,” you teased as you laughed, it was that or smiling so wide it hurt.

He shrugged and replied, “It’s kind of my thing.”

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

People, in general, weren’t exactly Damian’s _thing_.  Even after he, begrudgingly, asked Dick for help, Damian still couldn’t find anything that was _good enough_ for you.  That was his point of view, at any rate.  He wasn’t aware that you were, to put it frankly, trilled with any attempt Damian made at planning a date.  Your favorite times together, though, had to be the times he _didn’t_ plan, time you spent together that most wouldn’t even consider a date.

Sometimes he would find his way onto the roof of the apartment building you lived in, and he would text you to see if you were still awake.  Most of the time you were, and you would make your way up to the roof, with food and drink, to enjoy the rarely calm night with your caped crusader boyfriend.  Sometimes Domo would even follow, and nothing would keep that cat from recognizing Damian.

He really shouldn’t have been sitting on a rooftop, binging whatever Netflix show you were watching on your phone, but even Robin deserved a break sometimes.  Still, nothing beat the times he would let you watch as he played whatever horror game you were too much of a chicken to play yourself.  He didn’t let you off the hook for a _month_ for freaking out as you watched him play Outlast, actually sitting on Damian’s lap but refusing to look away from the television because _you had to know what happened next._

Hang on…Evil Within 2 was just released…

Looks like you’ve got a creepy as hell date weekend planned.


	18. Preferences: Amazon AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m trying to keep the reader’s background in each of the Preferences as similar as possible so they’re more like a connected series. Anywho, there is a ritual that allows a mortal woman to become an Amazon, so that’s what happened, but she’s no less an Amazon.
> 
> The beginning of the insert in the Dick series takes place during episode 9 of Young Justice season 1, ‘Bereft.’ That’s when they end up in Bialya with no memories of the last six months and, because Superboy didn’t even exist six months before that episode he goes bonkers. Just wanted to clarify that quick.
> 
> I legit had no ideas for Tim on this one. I don’t know what made it so hard, especially cause I had ideas for all the other boys, but for whatever reason I drew a blank for the nerd and I feel so bad cause he deserves love.
> 
> Also, regarding the Damian series, you can’t tell me the Amazons aren’t a studied people. They revere Athena who is not just the goddess of war, but the goddess of wisdom. They probably have a division of labor situation, so they can specialize and truly hone their skills in their chosen field, but you can’t possibly tell me they’re a civilization of female brutes. Wonder Woman also did break Superman's arm once. Can't remember exactly when, but she did do it.
> 
> Finally: I hardcore ship Batman and Wonder Woman. I have since I was a kid, and I will until the day I die. That being said, I have tried to keep that to a minimum.

# Preferences

### Amazon AU

 

**_Bruce Wayne_ **

You went missing years ago, during a spring break trip with friends.  Your family plane went down and no matter how much they traced the flight path, nobody found any sign of you.  The wreckage was found, as were your friends, but that was the strangest part.  _That_ was the part that caught Bruce Wane’s attention, _Batman’s_ attention.

Your friends were found safely floating in a small boat, a sturdy one with supplies to get them to the nearest civilization.  _You_ , however, were missing for years.

Then, one day, you simply showed up in Gotham none the worse for wear.  In fact, you seemed _better_.  All reports showed you hanging your head, almost closing in on yourself as you avoided people and cringed as your parents spoke.  Upon your return, however, you held your head high and your back straight with a strength and pride that made those closest to you suspicious if it was _really you_.  Others were worried you were going to snap and kill your friends for abandoning you, but you greeted them gently and made sure they were safe and sound before swiftly taking over your father’s position in the family business.

The board decided they would rather work for a strong, confidant, clever woman than a manipulative, greedy, immoral man.

There was something to this, a detail you were keeping well hidden, and Bruce was _determined_ to figure it out.

At one of many gatherings of Gotham’s elite, Bruce approached you under the guise of the billionaire playboy and you immediately, yet deftly, turned the conversation to one about a profitable partnership between the two of you.  It was looking like Bruce was going to take the slow approach to figuring out the mystery surrounding you, until the Joker dropped in.

It was about time, he was awfully quiet for the last six months.

Instead of running like the others, you pushed your way through the crowd without being trampled over.  The front man, an oversized and buffed up goon, collapsed when you kicked his knee in, shattering it before you finished him with a knockout punch for good measure.  Before slipping away to suit up, Bruce noticed the fighting stance you held and immediately recognized it after working with Wonder Woman for years.

_Amazonian._

Suddenly, all every mystery about you was solved.  You had found your way to Themyscira and returned a warrior.

Specifically, a warrior Batman rather enjoyed working with.

 

 

**_Dick Grayson_ **

The Justice League’s stealth team, more commonly referred to as ‘Young Justice’ had been sent to Bialya.  They were ordered to keep radio silence, but that was well over 24 hours ago and they had missed their two scheduled reports.  They feared the worst, but they couldn’t just run in guns blazing.

That was where you came in.  You had recently passed your last trial and left the only home you knew, as you had been brought to the paradisiacal island when you were an infant.  You may not have the immortality, a result of being born a mortal and given your strength when you were still very young, but you were nonetheless an Amazon.

Diana flew you to the edge of the Bialyan border in the Invisible Jet before letting you go, making you swear to stay safe before you took off for the field base that the Young Justice team set up.  By the time you got there it was closer to 48 hours since the team had been heard from, and there was no clear sign that they had even approached the field base within the last 24 hours.

Robin was starting to put the pieces together, though he was still utterly baffled as to why he couldn’t remember the last _six months_ , but the field base had to be why he placed a GPS marker in this location.  He saw you as you hovered over the ground, looking for any sign of tracks and finding nothing.  Robin clearly didn’t remember you, but there were enough pieces together to safely assume you were an Amazon, an uncharacteristically _young_ Amazon.  You had to be younger than him, but it also wouldn’t be the first time a mortal woman was imbued with the power of an Amazon.

Still, he was a bit concerned when he learned you were just _barely_ 11.  The entire team was, but that only lasted until you _punched out a tank_.  Artemis, normally the skeptical and snarky member who preferred to keep her distance, was particularly excited by that turn of events.

_“What?  That was cool,” she defended as the others gave her looks._

Five years later, the core members of the team were closer than ever, particularly you and Dick, now called Nightwing.  The two of you were practically partners, something that was already evidenced with the change of color scheme in your once red, white, and blue uniform.

Your black t-shirt, the wide neck cut to fall just off of your shoulders and cut off at the crook of your waist, was still adorned with Wonder Woman’s insignia in white and the comfortable fit would allow you free range of motion.  Your silver bracers were far longer than your mentor’s, reaching your elbows, and your black pants, decorated with white stars on your outer thighs and knees, clung to your form and offered extra padding around your knees.  Your old black combat boots had seen better days, but they were still in one piece and got the job done.  Even your Amazonian round shield and the hilt of your short sword were darkly colored, though your lasso would always carry a gold sheen.

He didn’t give a damn you were the powerhouse between the two of you.  Frankly, the fact you were such a badass was one _hell_ of a turn-on.  It also helped that he found failing a mission and/or dying because he couldn’t deal with the fact a woman was stronger than him _far_ more emasculating than being picked up and flown out of an exploding building by a woman.

Superman, Clark, seemed to be the only one who noticed, but the way you worked with and connected with Dick resembled the way Diana and Bruce connected so much it was _terrifying._   Batman and Wonder Woman were already capable of moving mountains, even Superman himself didn’t want to think about what they could do if they had met and bonded in their youth.

Then again, with how things were going with you and Nightwing, the entire world would find out soon enough.

 

 

**_Jason Todd_ **

It wasn’t a secret that Jason and his brothers were Wonder Woman fanboys.  They couldn’t help it, she was such a _badass._   It was just a thing in the family, everybody had an immense respect, and flat-out adoration, for strong women.  Jason was, however, the most obvious example of this.  He had multiple Wonder Woman t-shirts before he died, and even today he’d just roll over and do whatever she said before turning around to tell Superman and Batman to go fuck themselves.

Unless she told him not to.

You had finished your training, finished the ceremony to grant you your powers, and left Themyscira years after Jason Todd had died, and thus never met him as Robin.  You had never been _Wonder Girl_ , but there was no doubting the fact you were an Amazon.  He had heard of you, just as you heard of him, and it was hard to miss the YouTube videos of you.  Then, one year, you just disappeared.

Then he found you by accident, hiding out on an island paradise with your best friend, Princess Koriand’r, avoiding humanity as a whole.  You agreed to help heal the man who washed up on the shore of your little hideaway, but never expected to grow so fond of him.  It wasn’t that you hated men, it was that you couldn’t stand mortal society as a whole.  To think you had been born into a world of such idiocy irritated you, but Jason was…different.  He was a complex man, with a past he didn’t know how to react to.

Amazons are warriors, yes, but warriors raised to fight for love, freedom, and the chance to help people heal.  Despite the ability to lift a car over your head and throw it, each and every one of you were capable of a tenderness and love that caught people by surprise.  Being strong didn’t mean you couldn’t be feminine, just like femininity didn’t mean you were automatically weak or less worthy of respect.

You became a constant, and welcome, presence in Jason’s life, even after the original Outlaws split.  Even after he ran off on his own, you would be right there once he called for help, and the sentiment was returned.  At times you would find yourself in need of a stealth specialist while you played the overpowered distraction, and Jason was the best you knew.

Unbeknownst to you, Jason’s favorite pastime was bragging about you when you weren’t around.  After being convinced to join the family for Christmas, and bring his girlfriend after he tried to use you as an excuse, he was simply waiting for you to arrive as his youngest brother attempted to goad him into a challenge.

“Why?  My _girlfriend_ could kick all your asses,” he retorted, as if it were an insult.  His brothers took it that way, until they saw just who Jason was dating.  They _all_ recognized you, slowly turning to Jason who had a shit-eating grin on his face.

“That’s right, my girlfriend’s the biggest badass in the house.”

He was _absolutely_ including himself and Batman in that statement, you could bench press the damn _Batmobile_.

 

 

**_Tim Drake_ **

Your knowledge of ancient history, especially Greek history and mythology, was impressive enough to challenge the experts.  Within your first year, you were already working as an assistant in the history department.  Nothing seemed odd about you, except the accent Tim couldn’t seem to place, until Gotham University was attacked.  The crashing of the glass windows chased students out into the halls as you stayed behind, grabbing the underside of one of the long wooden tables that filled the lecture hall and flipping it like it was made of cardboard, throwing it just as another attack came.

Flipping up the hood of your sweatshirt, a fairly generic, but well oversized, blue hoodie, you dashed towards the now shattered window and took off towards the trouble.  There was no time to question you about the turn of events, there was a disaster to deal with, but Red Robin would be sure to talk to you later.  He highly doubted you meant any harm, there was no sign you were even a meta until you had to jump into action to save the school you attended, and you clearly wanted to keep yourself hidden.

“I ran away from home when I was a kid, after my mom died.  My dad was barely home, and when he was he was drunk.  He didn’t notice after I was gone for a week, so Diana picked me up and took me to Themyscira,” you explained as you spoke with the Red Robin on the roof of the administration building, your hands tucked safely in your pockets, “I wanted to come back, go to college, try to make a life here so Diana took me back.  She didn’t exactly say how she managed to get me into college, but I’m betting Batman had something to do with it considering it’s Gotham University.”

“You don’t want to try the whole superhero thing?” he replied, lightly, “Wonder Woman and the Amazons are pretty popular here.  The only thing my family can agree on is ‘Amazons are awesome.’”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that, “Maybe later, but for now I just want to get used to being back.  I haven’t exactly had any luck at making friends.  Themyscira is _wildly_ different from here.  For starters we don’t have WiFi.”

“But you have an invisible jet?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“There’s a lot of magic that goes into that particular piece of Amazonian technology,” you replied simply as you added, “There’s a lot of women who decided to study magic instead of combat, mostly because that’s how we keep the door to the Underworld sealed.”

_Holy shit._

“Well,” Tim had no idea how to follow that joke about the gate to the Underworld as he rubbed the back of his head, “You’re pretty cool, even without the powers.  I’m sure you’ll make some friends soon, even if you don’t tell them about where you grew up.”

“I made one already,” you shrugged with a smile, “Even if I’ve never seen his face.”

“Yeah,” he replied with a smile as he prepared to take off to change before dashing to class, where he would find the first chance to introduce himself to you, “You’re gonna’ be just fine.”

 

 

**_Damian Wayne_ **

Bruce and Clark had already stuck their sons together, because only a fool would suspect Jon’s youthfully naïve nature and Damian’s consistently _stabby_ mood being stuck in a room together would end badly.  It’s not like they were miniature versions of their fathers, or that their fathers required an Amazon to keep them from an all-out war with each other…

_Oh…_

_Right…_

To the defense of Bruce and Clark, the three of them knew just what was destined for Damian and Jon, they would carry their father’s mantles when the time came, and the world was already warping into a far more complicated world.  Simply fighting and punching the problem away was no longer a workable solution, and when Diana was once able to present solutions that, as mortals, Bruce and Clark couldn’t even think of, she found herself consulting a young woman of magic for answers now.

The world was quickly becoming far more complicated, and physical strength was no longer an answer.  A knowledge of magic and an understanding of the universe, _multiverse_ , was more and more necessary every single day.  The heirs to the cowl and the cape were going to need someone from outside the world of mortals, and in the coming world Diana doubted she could fill that role despite her own immortality.

In order to prepare the world’s future heroes, they needed to become acquainted _now_ , and someone needed to keep the boys in line.  Diana could think of no one better than you.  Your mother had desperately given you, and the family Grimoire, to Diana in hopes she would take you to the safety of Themyscira.  While everyone focused on the Amazon warriors, those familiar with the ancient civilization were also aware of the magic and necessity to study such magic that surrounded the island.  There was nowhere safer, nowhere better, for you to live out your youth.

You were trained in combat, trained in your magic, given regular access to your family tome to study the unique magic in your veins, and taught Amazonian rituals and magic.  While you could not be blessed with the physical strength of an Amazon, they tried multiple times, you were no less one of them and learned to use your own magic to enhance your strength when necessary.  The silver cuffs around your wrists, etched with ancient runes to allow you to easily use and control your magic to make the best of your training, was the only piece of your uniform you had put together by the time you met the boys.

You didn’t seem like anything special at first.  While Jon greeted you with a smile, and Damian wasn’t actively chasing you away, they didn’t know what you were capable of.  They learned, quickly, as you put your foot down to keep them from a particularly _stupid_ idea.  There was a small glow surrounding your silver cuffs as you grabbed the boy’s capes to stop them.  Jon immediately stopped and turned around, but Damian took a few seconds to comprehend the fact he was being manhandled by a young woman who was absolutely _minisule_ compared to him.

“You’re not going anywhere until you think of another plan,” you demanded, and neither of them were about to argue.  Well… _Jon_ wasn’t…

“And just what makes you think you can stop us?” Damian retorted, a full second before it started to ran on him, and _only_ him.

_You could do that?  How the hell could you manipulate the very laws of nature?_

For Jon, he obeyed out of intimidation.  Wonder Woman had managed to break his father’s arm before, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that Kryptonians had a fairly bad reaction to magic.  He didn’t want to find out just what _you_ could do.  For Damian, however…

He had to admit, as you laced your punches with fire or created an ethereal sword and shield out of magic, you had his respect.


	19. Preferences: Regular Office Job AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An AU where Rea is just trying to have a normal office job and ends up meeting the boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was shopping for work clothes (i.e. skirts, blouses, heels, blazers, etc.) and I came up with this idea. It’s basically just scenarios if Rea only met their guy because of work.
> 
> Alright, so the only one that actually popped into my head was the one with Dami, but I made it work! Anyway, that’s why his is so much longer than everyone else’s. I basically just wanted an excuse to write it…yeah…

# 99 More Problems

### Regular Office Job AU

**Bruce Wayne**

Well, you were mostly there in hopes you’d get a job.  Actually, that’s _entirely_ why you were there.  You purposely estranged yourself from your family, but that also led you to a place where you had student debt to pay off.  You weren’t about to get any grants or scholarships, not when the system was based on your _parent’s_ income, and you were determined to get that PhD you _couldn’t afford._  So, you took a painfully desperate chance that _the_ Bruce Wayne would remember the temperamental teen genius that pouted her way through every gathering before she escaped to college.

You had gotten an _appointment_ at least, and while using your – maybe – connection could blow up in your face, you didn’t have the money to move to Star City and you did _not_ want to work for Lex Corp.  So, you waited in the small reception area outside Bruce Wayne’s office and tried not to look too nervous.  With your internship experience, the massive amounts of research and development you did through getting your degrees, and the private designs you intended to show you were certain you had enough experience to be a grunt in the R &D department at the least.  You could probably be more, but you had too many bills to pay and didn’t want to push things.

“Mr. Wayne will see you now,” the ginger woman – her name was Maggie – smiled kindly at you from her desk and gestured to the heavy double doors to Bruce Wayne’s expansive office.  Just the massive paintings on the walls were bigger than your little space in the one-room apartment you shared with your college roommate – she was an Art major and you fully planned on letting her move in with her just to get out of that cockroach and rat-infested swampland you lived in.  She was your best friend, you couldn’t let her wallow in a place where she could get tetanus _and_ rabies just by getting a beer from the fridge.

She also helped you pay for the five outfits you’d need when you eventually got a job.

The sheer size of Bruce’s office in one of _four_ Wayne Enterprises towers was proof that his nickname as the _Prince of Gotham_ was accurate.

“Yeah, I’m working on that right now…you’ll have help soon, Lucis, I promise,” Bruce’s eyes flicked up from where he stood behind his desk looking over something on his computer monitor, “I’ll meet you in the R&D lab soon.”

He hung up and placed his cell onto the desk as you made your way across the massive office, stopping when he made his way around his desk to the bar along the wall to your left.  God, the only thing it was missing was a bartender.  He poured two half glasses of whiskey, the _good_ stuff you hadn’t had since your last underage high school party, and he smiled as he gave one to you.

“I looked at your thesis very impressive work,” he began, planning on giving you a soft sell, the old Fox needed help and you were the only one smart enough to help him, “It looks like you’ve improved since I last saw your work.”

“That’s right, that party…thing,” you smiled as the memory, mostly the fact he remembered, “I would have killed someone if you hadn’t intervened.”

“Well, as the host, it _was_ my job to prevent any homicides.”  Flirting wasn’t something Bruce was new to, but flirting for the good of his real life – for _Batman_ – was definitely new.

It felt _wrong_ , but the entire team needed you and he couldn’t just _tell_ you.

It _did_ help that you were going to be working on things for Wayne Enterprises, and it also helped that Fox desperately needed the help, but it still felt wrong.

 

**Dick Grayson**

Bruce had been dead – maybe – for two days before Dick realized he needed help keeping track of Wayne Enterprises.  He couldn’t just _leave_ everything for Damian to handle, he hadn’t been in Gotham for a _year_ before Bruce just _disappeared_ and the board was still having some issues accepting yet _another_ son, and business was _not_ what Dick went to college for.  That was where you came in, personally recommended by Ollie.  You were an intern when you worked for him, but you still had experience dealing with the whole _superhero_ thing.

That was before you walked in with your black pencil skirt, matching blazer, and blue blouse.  No, you didn’t walk in, you _strutted_ in those black heels and immediately got to work.  You started snapping at people for things Dick didn’t even know were stupid, you gave him a list of things to cover during the next board meeting, you even met Damian’s very stringent expectations.  On top of everything, after learning his regular coffee order, you always had a cup ready when he made it in and would cut in with an Alfred Approved™ meal as needed.  You never asked about any visible bruises or wounds that would make him wince, you simply changed things around, just so he could do everything over the telephone.

He had an embarrassing crush on you, one that he managed to keep hidden until you bought out that tech company in a week after Lex Luthor had been negotiating with them for a _month_.  Damian did some digging, he was critical of everyone, and discovered you bought it for a fraction of the price Lex Corp. was about to pay.  Not long after, at a benefit for a museum, you gave Lex Luthor an absolutely _evil_ wave after you got your scotch at the bar.

He kept himself composed until you left Bruce’s – no _his_ – office when he got this goofy smile and sighed.

“No.”  Damian was firm, “She’s competent at her job, you are _not_ screwing it up.”

Being called _competent_ was as close to a compliment anyone would get from Damian, at least for a very long time.  Damian was right, though, Dick couldn’t risk getting on bad terms with you because of a relationship gone wrong.

But…taking you to that fundraiser at the Art Gallery wasn’t a _date_ , it was just a fun night out.

 

**Jason Todd**

How did he get involved in these things?  He left Gotham, swore never to return, promised himself he’d never have _anything_ to do with the company, and now he was the head of Wayne Enterprises Security.  It was a hands-on job, most of what he did was patch holes and deal with the latest screwup, but it was still a pain in the ass.  It was _especially_ bad when he was in the R &D lab with the old Fox trying to figure out just how in the _hell_ someone managed to break in and steal one of the prototypes of a gadget that could remotely hack _anything_.

“Just how in the fuck…” Jason muttered as he reviewed the security camera footage and logs of the security systems.  Nothing was set off, and that was just _impossible_.  Even _he_ couldn’t have broken in there, so just _how_ did this happen?

Your heels clicked against the tile floor as you took a clipboard of paperwork to be signed to your boss, saying nothing as you handed it to him.  The fools really had _no_ idea what their little gadget was really capable of, overclock the processor and you could override the entire Wayne Enterprises security systems.  You had to switch out the power source for a homemade battery and you needed to give it a bit of a cooldown period, but you needed time to slip through the physical security measures so there was no issue there.

To everyone else, you were just a pretty little secretary, a smiling face to file paperwork and answer the phone.  A shame you were so good at your job, though.

Your backup plan had been to sleep with _the_ Jason Todd, but you’d just have to settle for ‘struggling’ to keep up so you had a front-row view of his backside.

 

**Tim Drake**

It was a charity, a long-term project Tim had taken over as part of his own investigation.  It was working…sort of.  A bit ironic for a high school drop-out to be the head of a charity for college students and graduates, but he made it work.  He was making progress, but he kept getting… _distracted._   It was a summer internship for you, something to add to your resume and hopefully land you a cushy job at Wayne Enterprises, and you were damn good at your job.  You were pretty, you were smart, you rolled with any complications and easily adapted.

You kept everything strictly organized, had a wicked memory that rivaled his own, and between everything you did for the benefit, you also took the time and energy to make sure everyone else was taken care of.  It took him a total of three seconds to get lost in your eyes, and that was new.  _Dick_ was the one that fell hard and fast.  Sure, Tim had crushes, girlfriends, dated around, but he couldn’t say he had ever been _smitten_ before you rushed into his life.

He’d be leaving town as soon as his investigation was over, but he kind of hoped it never ended.  He’d miss you, but he couldn’t exactly keep in contact.  Ignoring the fact that he _had_ to leave Metropolis the second he was finished, it was too dangerous to let anyone think you were connected.  Lex Luthor wasn’t _stupid_ , and he certainly wasn’t against using civilians to get what he wanted, and his unknown partner was looking more and more dangerous by the second.  There was a _reason_ Tim asked Kon to stick around for a bit, he already needed someone to help keep an eye on the people he was working with while he focused on his investigation.

“Hey,” you brought the Red Robin out of his thoughts as you placed the tin foil and plastic container of food on his desk, you were late from your errands, “I picked up some dinner, figured it was gonna be another late night.”

“Thanks,” he smiled as you sat down across from him and started digging the cheap plastic utensils and bottled water out of the plastic bag, a smile on your face and that gentle gleam to your eyes as the two of you sat alone in the office.

How could someone as sweet as you be the daughter of the crazed scientist working with Lex Luthor?

 

**Damian Wayne**

A long history of getting scholarships based on your skill and intelligence alone, abandoning your plans to be a musician and kept strict tabs on your powers to get an MBA from Harvard, graduated at the top of your class, and the _only_ job you could get was a glorified secretary just because of your gender.  The _real_ punch in the stomach was you were handling things that were _way_ outside of your job description.

Sure, whatever, Damian Wayne had inherited his father’s title as the _Prince of Gotham_ , he was busy, but it was _so_ not your job to find a way to politely tell Lex Corp. to _stop trying to buy Wayne Enterprises Medical Research Division._   That was so, so, _so_ not what you were _supposed_ to be doing.  It was _fulfilling_ , considering it _was_ what you went to school to do, but then you had to hand out business cards that read _Personal Assistant._

Despite your personal ire towards Damian Wayne, you really didn’t want to work for anyone else.  You regularly spoke with the assistants of board members, and their days consisted entirely of picking up dry cleaning, getting coffee and food, and helping kids with homework.  If that was your job, you’d throw yourself off one of the balconies along the outer wall of Damian’s office.

Yes, you were _supposed_ to call him _Mr. Wayne_ , but if you were doing his job for him you figured you could get away with calling him by his first name.

Earlier that day Jon Kent stopped by, it wasn’t a secret the reporter was Damian Wayne’s best friend, but he normally stopped by when Damian was actually _there._

“He’s not here,” you warned, glancing up from looking through things on Damian’s computer, somebody had to check his emails, and leaving the forms that required his signature, “When you find him, mind telling him he’s got two days before I start forging his signature?”

“When’s the last time you saw him?” Jon’s brow furrowed in concern, _honest_ concern.  He was normally a lighthearted and friendly guy, a far cry from your boss’s stern and disciplined behavior when he wasn’t being scathingly sarcastic.  Jon’s unusual serious tone and expression caught your attention, causing you to stand from where you were hunched over your boss’s desk.  Something was clearly going on, Jon wasn’t as good at hiding things as his best friend.

“Almost a week ago, but he called me last Friday to say he’d be back yesterday,” you answered, taking a few of the forms you printed from his email so you could fill them out yourself, heels clicking as you made your way through the expansive office to your own work space, a private reception desk right outside the elevator doors.  It was rare for anyone to actually make their way to the top floor of the tower, most often Damian left his office to meet with people, which left you the freedom to quietly play music as you worked.

“Any idea what he was up to?” Jon followed, asking a question he already knew the answer to.  He was tempted to tell you the _big secret_.  You could be a big help, and you might even be less… _combative_ if you knew just why your boss took off the way he did.  Damian had actively sought you out after hearing of your career choice, it didn’t take much for him to discover your powers and you were quite clever and capable at school.  Granted, that was in _high school_ , but to leave _any_ impression on the current _Prince of Gotham_ was impressive in and of itself.

Hell, maybe you’d even suit up and join in at times.  They desperately needed it.

As time passed, things had become far more complicated and desperate.  Bruce wasn’t in much of a state to do much else than man the Batcave, Damian’s siblings had their own disasters to deal with – on top of whatever families they had – and Jon had his hands full managing Metropolis.  His father had completely retired after his mom passed away, hit with a wave of depression out of the fact he was never able to keep his promise that the two of them would have at least a few peaceful years together. 

The numbers of the Justice League were dwindling, most members didn’t have any proteges that could take their place.  To top things off, Wonder Woman was torn between the human world and ruling Themyscira, along with any other _Goddess of War_ duties, the Green Lanterns had to take off for different planets at random times, _hell_ knew where Kara went off to, and Kon had his own issues.  The Martians had to take off for their home planet when the White Martians rebelled against the Green Martians, there had been no sign of them for years, and none of these issues even considered the casualties or those who had simply retired to care for their own families.  Hell, nobody had put on the Dr. Fate helmet in _years_.

“Not a clue,” you answered simply as you organized your paperwork and grabbed a pen, “Outside of work, I don’t have a damn clue what he does with his life and I plan on keeping it that way.”

“I was afraid of that…call if he shows up?”

“Sure thing, I’m gonna be working late anyway.”

You said your brief goodbyes as Jon rushed to the elevator, and you went right back to work.  You spent hours in the office, long enough that you didn’t even notice the clock was ticking towards eleven at night until you let out a brief yawn as you made your way to Damian’s desk to drop off some other forms to sign.  That was when you froze, the door to the balcony was open, and _Batman_ was –

No, not Batman, _Damian Wayne_ in a goddamn _Batman_ costume was pulling an extensive first-aid kit out from behind the bar, a bottle of whiskey already sitting on the counter.  He probably needed it, he had a large bruise lining the left side of his jaw that was already starting to yellow as it healed, you noticed a few blood stains here and there – unsure of just _whose_ blood it was – but most importantly was that laceration lining his right side.

“Son of a bitch,” you rushed over, dropping the paperwork onto the bar as you carefully helped your injured boss over to the cushioned leather chairs, he let out a deep and pained groan when he practically fell into the chair.

“That accusation is far more accurate than you think,” he replied, carefully pulling his arms out of the long dark coat that made up part of his suit and pulling off his belt, wincing as he jostled a few of the more tender injuries.  He didn’t need to be urged to take the half-glass of whiskey you were offering, he hated pain meds but he needed _something_ to dull the pain.

“Ignoring the whole Batman thing – which we _will_ be talking about – just what the hell happened to you?” you questioned as you started rifling through the first aid kit before deciding _fuck it._   If anyone could keep your abilities secret, it was the _actual fucking Batman._   You rolled up your sleeves as your boss let out a pained hiss as he pulled off his black shirt, he was fully aware of your magical abilities already, but he hadn’t expected you to actually _use_ them that night.

“My mother has _business_ in Gotham, she did not take kindly to my interruption.”  It was a touchy, and very complicated, subject for Damian, but Talia al Ghul was never a _good_ person and she became more crazed after she took her first dive into the Lazarus pit and inherited the role of _The Demon’s Head_ from her father.  She wasn’t hell-bent on world _destruction_ to save the world, _yet_ , but she still had to be stopped.  Add in the fact she gave him an implant – under the guise of _healing_ him – to use him as a weapon against Grayson and then used Damian’s own genetic twin to _kill_ the young Robin of the time, and ten years’ worth of _conditioning_ to lead the League of Assassins…

It was a complicated issue.

“Your _mother_ did this?’ you shot him an aghast expression before returning your focus to the white wisps of light danced around the massive cut down his side.

“And an army of highly-trained assassins.”  It was a bit braggadocios, but he was not about to let you think he was one-up by a single maniac

“I’m guessing Jon knows about this too,” you mentioned as you put the pieces together, “He stopped by looking for you, he seemed really concerned.”

“He always worries-“

“Considering you were skewered by your own _mother_ , I think he’s got a pretty good reason to worry,” you snapped back, the cooling tingle of your magic briefly turning hot in your irritation before you snapped back into control, “We’ll be talking about my raise _at length_ , but despite my personal grudges my job would suck if you died, so next time just call for help.  At least track me down when you need healing.”

If you were going to be dealing with this bullshit on top of everything else, you might as well enjoy the view.

There were social rules against ogling your hot boss, but the people who made those rules don't have supernatural powers and aren't working for the world's most irritating boss, who also happened to be the _freaking Batman_.  You were stuck with both, so you figured you could break a few rules.


	20. Preferences: Biggest Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no such thing as a couple that never fights. It just doesn't happen. As long as you can work through the big ones, that's all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!!!!!
> 
> Honest confession time. I have a bunch of these finished or mostly finished, I just never actually posted them because I'm a bum. I have no other excuse, because I was writing other stuff and posting it, so I'm sorry.

# Preferences

### Biggest Fight

 

**Bruce Wayne**

Every time he faked his death, you just about killed him.  Honestly, couldn’t he at least give you a _heads up_?  It was disturbing just how many times you had this fight, and it always ended up with you absconding to your otherwise unused apartment for two weeks as Bruce became more sulky than normal.  It’s not that you didn’t understand he needed to do that, and when he just _disappeared_ out of his own volition you weren’t angry, but when he took off as part of a _plan?_

It wasn’t just _you_ that mourned!  Dick was repeatedly forced to pick up the mantle of Batman, something that always weighed heavy on him, and Damian was left struggling to keep his head high.  Tim had a goddamn panic attack every time, and even Jason was left feeling _lost_.  Barbara felt guilty, like she could have discovered information that would serve as a warning if she had tried harder, and Cass would just _disappear_ for _days_ to deal with her own grief.  Then Stephanie would desperately try to crack jokes and get everyone else to smile in a desperate attempt to keep things as close to normal as possible, and you could see Alfred’s normally steely exterior try to crack.

You were all good at your jobs, you were all good at faking it, the only one that couldn’t cry on command was Babs and she had long since learned a workaround.  He couldn’t just give you all a fucking _heads up_?  He let _Superman_ know, but not his _own damn family_?

Finding out he lied hurt more than mourning him.

 

**Dick Grayson**

Funnily enough, your biggest fight wasn’t about the one time he lied and faked his death.  It was, however, about the job.

“We don’t even know anything yet, and-“

“I don’t care!” Dick snapped, this was one of the very few times you’d ever seen him furious, and the only time it was aimed at you, “You’re _not_ going out there!”

“But Dinah-“

“You’re _not_ Dinah, I’m not Ollie, and it’s not their _baby!”_   Why couldn’t you just back down on this?  Just agree to stay out of the game until you knew you weren’t pregnant, or until after the baby was born?  It was too dangerous, especially _now_.  Something, or someone, was specifically targeting superheroes in a way that even Batman was scrambling to keep up with and the thought of someone getting to you was bad enough.  The thought of losing both you _and_ your baby in one fell swoop?  Dick wasn’t sure he could handle that, and if you were going to get sick in the middle of a fight…

Not everyone is Poison Ivy or Harley Quinn, most of your enemies were going to use that to your advantage instead of stopping the fight as soon as they found out you’re pregnant.

“I’m not _lame_!  I can still fight!”  You kept a firm clamp on your powers, kept tight tab on the decibels you were reaching.  You were furious with Dick for acting like this, but one wrong move and you’d end up shattering his eardrums, or worse.  You were angry, but you didn’t want to _hurt_ him and reveal both your identities at the same time.  You weren’t useless, though.  _If_ you were pregnant, and that was a _big_ if simply because your cycle was only two days late, the baby would be roughly the size of a _bean_.  You were still good to fight for a few weeks – if not _months_ – before you had to take to the sidelines.

“You are _not_ fighting, and that’s _final!”_   Oh god, oh _god_ that was a bad move.  Not only did Dick sound like _Bruce_ when he said that, he _knew_ you were going to rip him a new one for that.

“ _Excuse me?”_   You were _frighteningly_ calm as you spoke, “Just who in the hell do you think you are?”

_Think fast, think fast!  What’s a good reply!  Literally anything but-_

“The _father_ of that child.”

_Anything **but** that you ass!  She’s going to **kill** you, and **you deserve it**!_

You just stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut instead, leaving Dick to look down at the couch as his shoulders slumped in defeat.  This was the first time you’d confined him to the couch for the night.

“Had to happen eventually.”

 

**Jason Todd**

“So, we’re just going to ignore the fact that you _lied_.”  Jason never yelled, which made you nervous.  He never yelled at you.  He’d yell _to_ you in the middle of a fight, but that was entirely different.  When you argued, you were the one that did all the yelling.  He’d raise his voice, his tone would become much sharper, but he never _yelled_ when he was angry, and that set you on edge.

To his defense, he _had a point_.  Your supposed death had been what triggered the previous Outlaws to split up.  They tried to stick together afterwards, but it just wasn’t the same.  So, they broke up.  You didn’t think you were _that_ crucial to them, and after spotting Jason with his new team you were…reluctant to let the world know you were still alive.

Bizarro accidently outed you.  You weren’t mad at the lovable lug, but you should have known he wouldn’t be able to keep a secret for long.

“I _had_ to-“

“Had to _what?_   Had to fake your death?” Jason snapped back, Artemis had long since taken Bizarro to give the two of you privacy.  Your romance with the Red Hood was hardly a secret, though your extensive history with him wasn’t something most were privy too.

“It’s more complicated than that.  The people I had to hide from are _dangerous_ , you _know_ that.”  You had the entire Society of Assassins after you at the time, as well as the remains of the very Academy that gave you the extensive training in _assassination_ that you never would have gotten from Selena.  The very Academy that included _killing your own classmates_ in the curriculum.  Jason could keep a secret, so could Roy and Kori, but even just giving them that secret put them at an _immense risk_.  There was no yelling, no screaming.  Just unnerving quiet and calm as Jason sat down on the ledge of the roof where he had caught you.  He had long since taken his helmet off, leaving it on the floor next to the ledge, and now he was just… _sitting_ there.

You saw that look before, on Bruce when Selena did something that he wasn’t sure he could make peace with.  Seeing it on Jason…you had gone too far.  _Way_ too far.

“I’m not asking you to understand, or even forgive me just…If you need help…”  He can what?  Call you?  He couldn’t even _trust_ you anymore!  He loved you and you turned around and shattered that trust!  This was why you didn’t want to meet up with him again!  You knew, the _second_ you saw him, you would feel those walls start to crumble and you’d feel the tears burning in your eyes just because you _hated yourself_ for hurting him like that.  He had already gone through so much, already had so much damage, and you just went along and _made things worse._

“I’ll think about it.”

That was more than you could ask for.

 

**Tim Drake**

Oddly enough, your biggest fight – if you could call it that – was in that period of time between his clumsy confession of his identity as the Red Robin, and when the two of you ended up together.  The investigation he had originally entered Gotham University to complete was over, had been for a while, but he stuck around until finals just to have an excuse to see you.  Now that he no longer had that excuse, and no high school diploma to continue college nor any intention of getting a GED, he had to tell you the truth.

“So…you’re just sitting here, telling me everything I know about you is a _lie_ , and expecting me to just…what…be _okay_ with that?”

When put that way, Tim realized just how much he was taking on _faith_.  He could easily put that faith in Dick, Alfred, Bruce, even Jason depending on what it was.  But putting faith in a girl he’d known for half a year?  That was stupid, and just more evidence that Stephanie was right.

He was completely smitten with you, and never even _realized_ it.  It was _pitiful_ really, but he didn’t know what else to do.  He wanted to continue his life with you in it, but that required telling you the truth about a few things.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know you’d come along.  I never planned…” Tim struggled to find the words to explain, “I never thought I’d meet someone like you –“

“I’m still stuck on the fact that you _kept_ lying,” you pointed out, “I understand why it started as a lie, but you _kept_ lying when you told me your identity, after you finished your investigation, after you should have stopped lying you _kept lying_.”

“It was for your safety!  I had to-“

“To what?  What _threat_ was there?  That I’d _forget_ to pretend you were the perfect guy?  That I actually thought we were on a _real_ date?  That I thought you really like me?  That I thought that _maybe_ …”  You took a few deep breaths to hide the impending sobs and tears.  You really, _really_ thought he liked you, and now you were left feeling like it was all part of a _con._   A con for a good cause, but a _con_ nonetheless.

“I do!  I really…”  No.  No, no, no.  He had to backtrack, had to figure something out, had to convince you not to leave his life forever.  If that was what you decided, he’d let you go, but he couldn’t just give up without a fight of some kind.  The only problem was, he wasn’t sure if you’d even trust his word anymore.

“Please just…give me another chance…”  That was all he could do, plead pathetically as he watched you nervously make your way to the kitchen.  You always started cooking when you got nervous, and you started pulling random things from the cupboards and fridge.  Tim risked getting up and making his way to the kitchen, watching silently as you nervously pulled things out of the cupboards.  You didn’t even know what you were going to make with this mess.  Maybe some kind of pasta dish?

You heaved a long sigh, placing the green pepper on the cutting board with your favorite chopping knife.

“I’ll help when you’re in town, give you a place to hide out, but…” you didn’t know if you could offer more than that.  He was a hero, he was trying to change the world for the better and you wanted to help.  You didn’t know what was supposed to follow that _‘but_ ,’ though Tim picked up on what you meant.

“I understand…”

It was all he could ask for now, more than it actually, and he’d take what he could get.

 

**Damian Wayne**

You didn’t want to leave, you didn’t want to just _take off_ , but you _had to._   Damian was never going to agree, you had already spent _months_ arguing over it.  He was _convinced_ there was another answer, that Dr. Fate could help you, or maybe even the Martians could help you gain control through some psychic conditioning, or-

None of it mattered.  _None of it was going to work._   You had checked around, done the research, contacted every expert you could, and it all pointed to _one thing._   The last person in your position, the last one that didn’t end up with an untimely death, did something _impossible_ to gain control.  You had nearly met the same fate as everyone else in your position, almost dying as you turned your caged power in on yourself to keep from killing anyone else while you tried to help the _Bat Family_ deal with the war the Court of Owls had set upon Gotham.  The only reason you survived was because Damian ignored his father, took a risk, and dropped you in the only remaining Lazarus Pit.

Needless to say, you didn’t want to do that again.

You waited until he had left for patrol with Batman, throwing things into a duffle bag and leaving.  You wanted to leave a note, but you knew the second you left a note you’d never leave.  You were already wracked with guilt, physically sick because you _knew_ Damian just didn’t want to lose you.  He had already come so close, and if you wouldn’t let him follow than he just _didn’t want you to go._   He didn’t want to take the risk that you’d never return.

But, you had to take that risk.  It was that, or one of you died because you fucked up and brought down an actual _monsoon_ because you couldn’t find your phone charger.  You had been arguing for months, arguments that ranged from snippy comments to all-out screaming matches in the cave.  When – _if –_ you came back, you doubted he’d ever forgive you, but you didn’t have a choice.

_You had to go._


	21. Preferences: Sexy Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right. I went there. The preference-things are getting downright cliche and predictable because it's fun. Next up is just a list of nicknames because I CAN.

# Preferences

### Sexy Times

 

**Bruce Wayne**

For a man with such an extensive dating history, one would expect Bruce Wayne to be absolutely _phenomenal_ at sex.

One would be absolutely right, but there was one thing most people weren’t aware of.

See, between being _Bruce Wayne_ , running Wayne Enterprises, being Batman, being one of the founding members of the Justice League, the injuries he would get just from being Batman, _and_ being a father to enough kids the two of you often listed off names until you got to the right one, Bruce didn’t have much time.  On top of that, you had your own busy schedule.  You had, rather quickly, found yourself at the head of Wayne Enterprises R&D, you had – almost disturbingly quickly – been _given_ the role of the family matriarch _by the kids_ as each one of them eventually started calling you ‘ _mom’_ , and you had your work as tech support for both the family and the Justice League. 

As a result, most of your sex life took the form of quickies in…fairly inappropriate places.  Most often it was at his office at Wayne Tower, but your favorite was either that closed off corridor of the art museum.

When you _didn’t_ have to be quick, though, you’d be lucky if you could remember _your own_ name by the end of it.  It was long, it was involved, and it didn’t end until you were both sore and exhausted.  It was probably a good thing neither of you had much time for more than a few minutes at a time, you’d literally never walk right again otherwise.

 

**Dick Grayson**

You had never hooked up with a guy that made you _laugh_ so much during sex, not until Dick came along anyway.  You weren't even giggling virgins, and Dick was _\- by far -_ the best you'd ever had, even without the smiles and giggles.  Sex had always been something enjoyable, but never had it been _fun_ before, it had never been this _adventurous_ for _either_ of you before.  Though, at least for you, that was probably because you’d never been with someone that was always so _proud_ of bringing you pleasure, that goofy grin he got, the sweet things he would whisper in your ear or say between kisses.

That wasn’t to say things never got downright dirty, you’d never be able to look at your bathtub the same way again, then there was that thing at that gala a few months ago.  It was quick, took place entirely in a closet, and not once did your giddy boyfriend take his head out from under the skirt of your dress.  Then there was that thing on a nondescript rooftop, suited up and masked, and you eventually indulged his fantasy of a quickie in the Batmobile during one of his many stints as Batman - to be fair, you owed him for fulfilling your fantasy which took place by a window of the damn _Watchtower._

That didn’t change when he came back into your life, lying about his death to infiltrate Spyral and leaving you absolutely _furious_ when you found out.  You forgave him, you knew how your lives worked and that sometimes things like that were necessary.  You didn’t _like_ it, you remained huffy for weeks, and you made him _swear_ to never do anything like that again, but you understood it.

“Hey pretty bird,” Dick greeted softly after kissing your bare shoulder, the two of you were waking up after a long night of _christening_ every corner of your new apartment.  You couldn’t help but smile at Dick’s nickname for you, your amused hum turning into giggles as Dick wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back against him to start trailing kisses down your neck.

Who knew how fun sex could be when you were just _that_ comfortable with someone?

 

**Jason Todd**

Rough and ready, there was really no other way to describe it.  You’d both walk away with bite marks and there was a long series of scratches down his chest and back.  He’d always end up picking you up and almost throwing you onto…whatever surface you’d be defiling.  Didn’t matter where either, even the counters or table in the kitchens of your safehouses weren’t safe.

The best times were after jobs or fights, when you were stumbling back into a safehouse still high on adrenaline and generally a little injured.  You’d never make any move if either of you needed to be patched up and rest, but most of the time it was simply a few bruises and light cuts that you could easily ignore.  You had to work of the adrenaline one way or another, and you had successfully convinced Jason that _sex_ was the best way to do that.

In those situations, Jason would yank his red helmet off and toss it somewhere before pulling you into a rough and heated kiss.  You didn’t mind, he was a badass and that turned you on.  What you _didn’t_ know was just how much of an effect you had on him as you cleverly danced and flipped around the battlefield, a coy little smirk on your lips as the confident little cat burglar you started out as came out to play.  You weren’t physically strong, but you made up for that just by being _better_ at fighting, better at adapting and toying with your enemy, and there was just something so sexy about that.

During that heated kiss, you would slip out of your skintight suit and gently pull Jason’s bottom lip between your teeth before he pulled away.  From there, he would pick you up and place you wherever he wanted you, whether it be the dresser, the table, or tossing you back onto the bed before he kicked off his boots and yanked his shirt over his head.

The position was never the same thing twice in a row, but by god you could grind against his thighs for _hours_ , and he’d _let_ you if the mood struck him.  Watching you get yourself off like that was just…that was going to be one of the last images passing through his mind when he actually died.  It was just too perfect a view not to burn it into his head.

Every time, without fail, it was rough, hot, and heavy.

 

**Tim Drake**

Your boy was very, very, _very_ smart.  He knew details of human anatomy, he knew the soft spots and how to get the desired reaction, and he put that knowledge to good use.  The only problem was getting _him_ off, because you had to get him out of his head and that was _much_ easier said than done.  You had found two surefire ways.  All you had to do was walk around in one of his shirts – nothing else, not even panties – or just not wear panties when you went out and it was like his brain shut down and all he could do was function on his _very_ creative instinct.  From there things got, well, _filthy._

There was a _reason_ the small table in the kitchen was generally unused.  You just…you couldn’t even _look_ at it without blushing anymore.  You had, on more than one occasion, been bent over that table until you couldn’t form words.  Then there was that thing with the handcuffs and…

Smart boys tend to be the _creative_ ones, a warning one of your friends gave you when you started dating Tim.  You didn’t take the warning seriously, you figured she was just teasing because she’d been trying to get you and Tim together since you met.  That was before you thought you could tease Tim at a Wayne Enterprises event by wearing no panties, then he turned the tables on you and whispered to you something so filthy _Satan himself_ would have blushed and, suddenly, wearing no panties wasn’t looking like such a good idea.  There was _nothing_ to relieve the tension, and Tim’s inconspicuous touches weren’t helping, and that _goddamn_ _smirk_ he would shoot to you from across the room.  By the end of the event you were biting your lip so hard you swore you drew blood at some point.

You kept making that same ‘mistake,’ determined to come out on top at least _once_ , but you never did.  Now, you were wearing nothing under your skirt as the two of you went out with a few friends, you had _forced_ him into taking a break, and there was _no way_ Tim hadn’t noticed.  Hell, you’d laid your outfit out on the bed and left your brightly colored panties at the top of the pile in the hamper.

“You know you’re in for it when we get home,” he quietly muttered into your ear, leaving a teasing kiss on the sensitive skin just below your earlobe after adding, “I’m thinking the couch, those armrests are pretty sturdy.”

 

**Damian Wayne**

He was always so gentle with you, it was like he thought you were made of glass or needed to prove his love simply by worshiping you, like calling you things like _my life, my love,_ and _beloved_ didn’t get that point across.  Sometimes he would snap, but that only happened when something caused his jealousy to click into play and cause him to leave a long series of hickies down your neck, bust, and stomach.  Then there were the times you… _misbehaved._

You had fun teasing Damian, that was all there was to it.  _Especially_ when he was resuming his role as a son of Bruce Wayne, or returning to his _real_ life as Robin.  It didn’t take much either, to be honest.  The right dress during a gala, a few mildly flirty phrases spoken in Arabic over a com unit, wearing one of his shirts when he was on his way out to save the city, even a hum and a smile as you batted your eyes at him after a sweet kiss goodbye.  Honestly, not that he’d ever express this with _words_ , you’d learned he was just as addicted to you as you were to him, and you found that comforting.

Still, even when he’d get a bit rough, or when he grew irritated with some fool’s continued flirting with you and felt the need to cover you in marks, there was always something _reverent._   Even his teasing touches were loving and gentle, he always repeated his love for you even if just through pet names like _my heart_ or simply calling you _love._   He was always whispering something to you or muttering his words against your skin.

No matter what happened, even when he struggled to say the exact words, Damian always made sure you knew you were loved.


	22. Preferences: Nicknames/Pet Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right. I went cliche and started writing about nicknames/pet names.
> 
> Also, I understand where everyone comes from with Damian calling an s/o 'beloved.' I get it, that's what Talia calls Bruce. At the same time, that's what Talia calls Bruce, and she be psycho. You can't tell me Talia's 'love' for Bruce is healthy (or even legit love, even if it was at one point of the series it sure as hell isn't anymore), and Damian's too smart not to notice that.

# Preferences

### Nicknames/Pet Names

 

**Bruce Wayne**

You were the one with all the nicknames, most of them having something to do with his identity as Batman.  If he was doing something stupid, a list of actions that mostly consisted of keeping secrets when he really shouldn’t or just _failing_ to tell you about his biological son for two damn months, nicknames ranged from _‘bat-brained asshat_ ’ to _‘World’s Dumbest Detective.’_   He didn’t quite appreciate that, but that mostly had to do with the fact you were one of _very_ few people that actually called him out on his shit instead of just leaving to punch bad guys as a way of dealing with the irritation.  He let it go, unless you called him _Mr. Wayne_ at the office – _to his face._   That was how he knew he _really_ screwed up.

Most of the time, however, you weren’t as scathing with your nicknames.  You would, occasionally, call him _Brucie_ to get on his nerves.  You’d refer to him as _Bat-Dad_ with the kids, but to be fair they called you _Bat-Mom._

He only had the one nickname for you, _darling_ , because that’s what you were to him.  Even when you were snapping at Jason for getting himself hurt, ordering Tim to go get some sleep, glaring at Dick as he nervously tried to explain why his gear needed yet _another_ repair, joining Damian in lamenting the necessity to deal with stupid people, trying to figure out a way to hack into the ARGUS database and as a result break the law with Barbara, or even snapping at members of the League that you’re an _Engineer not a goddamn magician stop breaking the fucking Zeta-tubes_ , he adored you.

You were darling to him, and you always would be.

 

 

**Dick Grayson**

To people who didn’t know the details of Dick’s life, his calling you _pretty bird_ wouldn’t seem so important.  Even those who knew his identities as either Robin or Nightwing, or your identities as Songbird and Nightingale, weren’t aware of the emotional connection Dick had to that little nickname.

That was what his dad called his mom, before they died.

Dick always knew, if he _ever_ called someone _pretty bird_ , it would have to be the love of his life.  The one person he would always love, no matter what happened.  That was, without a doubt, _you_.  He knew that the second you were reunited during that investigation into a mob spanning from Star City to Bludhaven, speeding in on your motorcycle and lifting the back tire as you swung your bike around to smack a goon in the face before – only an hour or so later – paying such careful attention to your work as you gently cared for Dick’s previously self-treated wounds.

You struggled to find a nickname that held as much meaning, and you couldn’t find one until _after_ you and Dick were _finally_ able to get married.  It was cliché, but the proud grin and sparkle in Dick’s eyes were worth the cheesiness of smiling to him and calling, “Oh _husband_ , could you get the large Tupperware off the top shelf?”

He was still grinning as he kissed you while handing you the plastic container you needed, pulling back to promise, “Anything for you, pretty bird.”

 

 

**Jason Todd**

You were the _one_ person that could get away with calling him JayBird.  Even before you actually got together, he let you call him that.  Roy tried to join in, to which Jason quickly replied, “Choose between “JayBird” and your trachea.  You can’t have both.”

He let you get away with calling him a _lot_ of nicknames, nicknames he’d never let _anyone_ call him.  The list consisted of _JayBird_ , _Angry Bird, Red,_ and _Tough Guy,_ but the ones that meant the most involved you calling him a hero or reminding him just how important he was to you.  It wasn’t a secret Jason was his own worst enemy, looking at himself as nothing more than a disaster that shouldn’t have been brought back to life in the first place, and you _hated_ that he even _considered_ that, let alone thought it was _true._   So, you started calling him things like _Hero_ , or even calling him the light of your life.  He always _froze_ , even though you did him the curtesy of calling him those things in private.

He’d always just called you _kitten_ , and that was highly unlikely to change.  That had been your masked identity in Gotham, and the way you would curl up in his lap or into his side as you cuddled was just to reminiscent of a kitten.  One or two times he could _swear_ you _purred._

Either way, all thanks to you, Jason Todd became a _cat person._

 

 

**Tim Drake**

The two of you had a particularly sweet tradition in your greetings to each other.  Normally, you would come home from school or work and hug Tim from behind as he sat at the table or couch and worked on an investigation.  Then you would kiss his temple and sweetly coo, “Hey boy.”

He would then turn to face you, giving you that same long and lingering kiss he gave you every time you were apart for even just a few hours.  Gently pressing his forehead against yours he’d smile and whisper against your lips, “Hey girl.”

It was from a movie, you’d admit that much, and considering the actual plot of the movie you probably shouldn’t have started that little pattern.  To be fair, _you_ started it and Tim picked up on it, he hadn’t even _seen_ the movie until _years_ after the habit was built into the two of you.  The entire plot of the movie was the fact that, after discovering they couldn’t pay her hospital bills caused his wife to kill himself, a man became a tremendously dangerous serial killer targeting those he held responsible for his wife’s death – to the point he had no problems putting innocent people in danger.

Tim wouldn’t say anything out loud, especially not to _Bruce_ , but he actually sympathized with the man in the movie.  Granted, it was apparently based on a true story, but that didn’t change the fact that Tim sympathized and, to a point, _empathized._   If there was someone to be held responsible for hurting you, there was nothing that would stop him from _making sure_ the guilty parties paid.  You helped him stay grounded, gave him a safe haven even when everything went wrong, kept him going even when he should have broken.

If anything every happened to you, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to recover.

 

 

**Damian Wayne**

The two of you were fluent in multiple languages.  Arabic, specifically Arabic with the League of Assassin’s specific dialect, was something the two of you commonly spoke when out in public.  Though, it wasn’t odd for the two of you to break into _Latin_ , despite the fact it’s supposed to be a _dead language._   In your magical studies, you needed to learn how to speak the ancient language, and just as Damian had taught you Arabic you taught Damian how to _speak_ Latin.

It was easy, considering he already knew how to read it, but speaking and reading are a bit different.

Sometimes, if the mood took you, you’d break out the French or Italian.  Either way, the list of things you’d call each other never changed.  You’d always taken to calling Damian _handsome_ , or at least some version of it, though you particularly loved coming up with nicknames that revolved around his green eyes.  Him and those goddamn eyes.  There was a _lot_ to swoon over, but you had gotten lost in his eyes on _multiple_ occasions.

Plus, reminding him of his gorgeous eyes _always_ makes him blush.

Damian’s nicknames for you were a lot more sentimental.  It was difficult for him to say the exact phrase _‘I love you,’_ so he did that both in his actions and his nicknames for you.  He hated calling you _beloved_ , that was what his mother called his father and Talia was…her ‘love’ for Bruce had never been healthy.  Instead, he opted for calling you things like _‘my heart,’ ‘my life,’ ‘my light,’_ and occasionally even _‘love.’_   None of it was in English, but always in languages you understood.

You were a surprise.  Not once did he ever think he would fall in love, he never once even suspected to fall in _lust_ , but you came along and changed everything.  Taught him how to love, truly and deeply.  He wanted to make sure, even as he struggled to voice his love for you, that you _always_ knew just how important you would always be to him.


	23. Preferences: Heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAVE SOME ANGST Y'ALL.
> 
> Also, the fact that everyone just assumed Tim died and, even though he faithfully thought they were looking for him, didn't actually look just made me mad. So, now Rea looked for him. In other words: I. Fucking. Fixed. It.

# Preferences

### Heartbreak

 

**Bruce Wayne**

You kept your chin up as you created a new suit for Dick, he had a wildly different fighting style from Bruce and the first Robin had to carry the mantle as efficiently as possible.  The only way to do that was figure out how to make the same suit with lighter materials, the heavy cape included, to allow Dick his usual full range of movement.

You didn’t know how long he was going to be the Batman, you didn’t know if Bruce was missing or if he was really… _gone_.

You didn’t want to think about it, so you dealt with it the only way you knew how to.

Alcohol and burying yourself in your work.  By the time you were done, Dick and Damian had a _flying Batmobile_ , a handful of new gadgets you doubted they would ever need, you had started on making a non-lethal sword for Damian, and you had been ingesting nothing but alcohol on no sleep for a _week_.  You couldn’t bare to go to your room in the penthouse, the master bedroom you shared with Bruce.  You knew you would break down in sobs the second you stepped foot in there, and you were fine living out of a suitcase and using one of the other bathrooms littered around the massive penthouse.  You were all stuck there until the manor could be de-trapped and repaired after that last attack.

They were all worried about you, in their own way, but the best they could do was wait for you to crash.

They were lucky Dick and Damian came back early from patrol, catching you sitting on the couch with this utterly _lost_ look on your face.  You had promised you would patch the boys up and sent Alfred on to bed, you had run out of projects and alcohol so you would busy yourself by running things back at the penthouse.  Now that your job was done…all you could do was sit and stare into the distance and scratch at Titus’ head, he was sitting on the floor next to you and rested his head on your lap as he kept a close eye on you.

Bruce was _gone_ , and you didn’t even know if it was _permanent._

“Hey, you alright?” Dick was careful as he broached the subject.  He had literally _never_ seen you look so… _pitiful_ before.

“I ran out of stuff to do,” you looked up at the boys before letting out a sad little whimper as you tried to burry your sobs.  The love of your life, the one person that had convinced your heard-headed mind that love was a real thing and worth taking a risk, was just _gone_.  All those goodbyes he gave you, those long kisses in case it really was the last goodbye, could _never_ have prepared you for when it actually happened.  You felt so pathetic, tears falling down your cheeks as you sobbed and clung to Dick as you finally just let things hit you.  Poor Damian wasn’t quite sure _what_ to do at first, settling for awkwardly rubbing your back in an attempt to comfort you.

You’d get through this, but right now all you could do was wonder if the pain would ever leave, or if you just got _used_ to hurting like that.

 

 

**Dick Grayson**

You curled up in a ball, sitting at the head of your shared bed with your face burred between your bent knees and your arms wrapped around your legs, and just sobbed endlessly.  The engagement ring around your finger no longer felt comfortable, but turned cold and heavy as you struggled to comprehend everything that had happened.  You were grounded when Dick’s identity was revealed just before he was murdered, according to the three tests you had taken a few weeks earlier you were pregnant.

Now…now you weren’t.  It wasn’t unheard of, it was fairly often for the first pregnancy to end in a miscarriage, but after everything you were just…you were clinging to that little life.  You knew it wasn’t true, but you felt like you had nothing left.  You would learn to live with the pain, and it would be there for years.  You knew that from experience, but the pain would pass…at least it did with your parents, and the pain passed fairly quickly after breakups.

But this wasn’t losing parents you vaguely remembered, and this wasn’t a _breakup_.  This was the love of your life and your baby, all in the span of two weeks of each other.  You just sat there, curled up until the tears ran dry and the sobs just _stopped_.  It wasn’t easy keeping your sobs controlled, if you let yourself scream out in pain you wouldn’t just shatter all glass within a mile, but cause explosions and potentially kill people.  That was when you made your way to your hidden suit, pulling it out and staring at it before you made your decision.

You were entering a new stage in your life, and Nightingale didn’t have a place in it.  Being a _superhero_ didn’t have a place in your life anymore.  After so many years as Nightwing’s partner, then years as Dick’s girlfriend and the last few months as his betrothed, going back into that life just…wouldn’t be the same.

Jason had left you an open invitation to join his new team, the new group of outlaws.  Nothing was meant by it, just an open invitation into a family of equally broken people to allow you some comfort.  You appreciated it, and you’d pick up the occasional job here and there, but you had to leave the life behind.  It was heartbreaking, it felt like you were leaving part of you behind, but Nightingale was _Nightwing’s_ partner, and you didn’t know if you had it in you to go back to the vigilante life anymore.

You just…you didn’t know how to explain it other than the depressing fact that you needed time to be _broken_.

 

 

**Jason Todd**

You weren’t the one heartbroken, you were just equal parts angry and sad.  Jason had taken off for the Land of All for the immortal preteen to take away his memories after the Joker had _once again_ terrorized the family.  You understood, you grieved the fact that the Jason you knew and loved was gone, but you were also angry that he just _punked out_ like a _bitch_.  That wasn’t the Jason Todd you knew and loved, the Jason you knew _never_ gave up like that.  He kept fighting, no matter what, so the fact that he just gave up…he’d be back.  Even when he tried to give up, he’d come right back.  It was classic Jason.

He was too loyal to the people he loved for his own good, he always had been and always would be.

He was the one that was left heartbroken.  He didn’t even remember you, but the way you tried to mask your sadness behind anger was…it was like he was _shot_ right in the gut.  Something about you being hurt just…he didn’t even _know_ you and he hated himself for hurting you like that.  It was like…it was like he had _abandoned_ you, and he couldn’t even remember _why_ he would feel that way about you.  Those eyes, the pout on your painted lips that poorly hid your pain…he couldn’t…it was just…

He felt like a teenage boy who had just upset the girl he was absolutely smitten with, and he _didn’t know why._

There was this…emptiness hanging in his heart, like he was missing something important.  He had been doing so well, feeling so free without his memories, until you came along and he had to wonder.

_Was it worth forgetting you?_

 

 

**Tim Drake**

You felt like you were the only one that believed he was still alive, you threw everything aside to try and track him down.  As far as everyone else believed, the Red Robin had been killed in action, but that didn’t sit right with you.  This was someone who, despite not being the swordsman Ra’s Al Ghul was, still managed to defeat the infamous _Demon’s Head_ at his own game.  This was someone that Batman stated was a better detective than the Bat himself had _ever_ been.

More than that, where was the _proof?_   There was _no proof_ that Tim was dead, and without proof you _refused_ to believe it.

You weren’t the detective Tim was, but you weren’t _stupid_ either.  It was your own brilliance that had Tim swooning over you in the first place, and you decided to put it to good use.  You hadn’t been misusing your intelligence in the first place, you quite enjoyed your field of study, after Tim convinced you to switch from Law your father convinced you to study to the Literature you wanted to study, and that PhD you were working towards had been your life’s work, but this was _far_ more important.

Just because everyone else gave up hope didn’t mean you did.  You just…you couldn’t face the alternative.

Just knowing he was _missing_ shattered your heart.  After everything the two of you had gone through to get together, after everything the two of you had gone through together.  All the dirty secrets that surrounded your family didn’t chase Tim away, and your only fear when he left for a case was his safety.  You trusted him implicitly, something you hadn’t done before, and you could bring his head out of whatever case he’d picked up.  You were meant to be together.

You had to find him.  You had to bring him home.

Even if nobody else would help you do it.

 

 

**Damian Wayne**

You…you were…you were _dead_.  He had been there, seen it happen, and when all was said and done he punched his father for getting you involved in the first place.  He would have lashed out worse, if Grayson and Todd hadn’t been actively holding him back.  They almost _couldn’t_ , their youngest brother was completely _blinded_ by the fact you had died because that old bastard got you involved in his _war_ against the Court of Owls, and instead of _killing_ the bastards the old man was convinced there was a _peaceful_ way to deal with the Court and their Talons.

Now, because of that, you were _dead_.

Damian shoved his brothers back, he’d grown to be the tallest over the years it took to reach his later teens, and slipping out of their grasp wasn’t as hard as they would have liked.  He didn’t have the same muscle tone as his father, but it was already easy to assume he’d be the strongest of the Robins when he crossed that line between _young adult_ and _adult._   He started out storming towards the surgical table where you lay, beaten and bloodied, slowing as he reverently lowered his hood and took off his mask.

Selina stepped forward, calling out to the youngest Robin in an attempt to comfort him, only to be met with a fierce gaze that hadn’t crossed Damian’s eyes since he first entered his father’s care.  That cold glare of an assassin mixed with a raw anger that would haunt Damian his entire life.  You had played a large part in dulling that anger over the years, helping him heal from his childhood and the traumas he experienced both at the hands of Gotham’s garden variety criminals and his own _mother_ , and losing you was breaking him.

Nobody said anything, even Tim and Alfred remained silent as they left Damian alone with you in the Batcave.  The second he heard the entrance hidden behind the grandfather clock shut with a heavy thud, he just… _broke_ , a sharp pain shooting through his knees when he fell to them, his hands clutching your own as he actually _prayed_ that you’d return his tight grasp, tears falling freely as the icy feel of your skin stole any breath he had left.  He couldn’t lose you…he couldn’t…

_The Lazarus Pit…_

Most were destroyed or closed off, even from him, but one still remained.  One that Damian had kept even from his father.

There was likely no forgiveness for what he was about to do, as with your own natural abilities a resurrection by the Lazarus Pit could prove _catastrophic_ …

It was a risk he was willing to take.


	24. Preferences: Your Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right folks. Another chapter of cliche stuff.

# Preferences

### Your Song

 

**Bruce Wayne**

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ieftPTBt7>

You couldn’t exactly say the two of you had a ‘song,’ but you couldn’t help but think of Bruce whenever you heard Led Zeppelin’s _All My Love._   There was just something about the song that… _fit._   Something about it just meshing with the fact the two of you were hardly inexperienced and lovestruck youths when you got together.  You’d had other relationships, you’d even had one long and serious enough that you were engaged before you broke it off.  Yet, none of that changed how deeply you loved each other.

Probably helped that you listened to a _lot_ of Led Zeppelin as you worked in the cave…

 _Should I fall out of love, my fire in the light_  
To chase a feather in the wind  
Within the glow that weaves a cloak of delight  
There moves a thread that has no end

 _For many hours and days that pass ever soon_  
The tides have caused the flame to dim  
At last the arm is straight, the hand to the loom  
Is this to end or just begin?

_All of my love, all of my love  
All of my love to you, oh_

_All of my love, all of my love, oh  
All of my love to you_

 

**Dick Grayson**

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MgUIlh2h7CQ>

Having a song was terribly cliché, but the two of you just couldn’t help it.  The way your relationship started just _begged_ the two of you to call ‘Shut Up and Dance’ by WALK THE MOON ‘your song.’  For starters, that was the last song that the two of you danced to just before you left the club and drunkenly made your way down the streets of Bludhaven and back to your apartment.  Without that one night, without that one dance, the two of you never would have gotten together in the first place…

Well, you probably would have, but this was how it happened.

To top things off, you had dragged Dick onto the dance floor and tore him away from chatting with the pretty bartender and literally told him, _“Just shut the hell up and dance.”_

As the song played over the radio and you danced along in the kitchen, in your shorts, stolen t-shirt, and mismatched fuzzy socks while you made pancakes for dinner, Dick couldn’t help but smile as he stepped back to watch, listening to the lyrics.

 _She took my arm_  
I don't know how it happened  
We took the floor and she said

 _Oh don't you dare look back_  
Just keep your eyes on me  
I said you're holding back  
She said shut up and dance with me  
This woman is my destiny  
She said oh oh oh  
Shut up and dance with me

 

 

**Jason Todd**

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HqiuqX-AMsA>

Falling in love wasn’t exactly something either you or Jason thought possible.  The two of you were specifically guarded _against_ that, and yet it happened.  You were both broken in your own way, you were both _determined_ to remain lonely simply because it was _safer_ than the alternative.  Not only would you get hurt, but the other person would get hurt, and you couldn’t let that happen.

And then you and Jason were reunited after years apart.  Two kids from Gotham who had become just as broken as the other over the years.  It was inevitable, to be honest, that this would happen.  You could see past the walls, just as he could see past yours, to the wounded person who wanted nothing more than to love and be loved despite everything that had happened.

You were both broken, but that just helped you understand each other all the better.  You fit together before, but all these years later it was like you were warped and wounded just to fit perfectly together.

 _There's something tragic, but almost pure_  
Think I could love you, but I'm not sure  
There's something wholesome, there's something sweet  
Tucked in your eyes that I'd love to meet

 _These aren't my people_  
These aren't my friends  
She grabbed my face and that's when she said

 _I like that you're broken_  
Broken like me  
Maybe that makes me a fool  
I like that you're lonely  
Lonely like me  
I could be lonely with you

 

**Tim Drake**

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MBSQQrmr3TA>

For a pair of people who prided themselves on knowing exactly what was going on at all times, you spent so much of your time not knowing what the hell was going on.  The second either you or Tim had everything figured out, you were thrown a curve ball and you were left scrambling for answers again.  You had a boyfriend, your education was going swimmingly, your bills were always paid, then _bam!_   You found out your mother was a crazed scientist that did bad stuff for Lex Luthor.  Tim figured out who Batman was, started training to be the next Robin, everything was looking good, then _bam_!  He was orphaned.  You’d made peace with what your mother did, started your PhD, had a great job at Wayne Enterprises, and _bam!_   Tim went missing ‘presumed dead,’ and you were the only one looking for him.  Tim had found a way to make peace with Damian, they were starting to work together, then _bam!_   Damian was killed by Talia Al Ghul.

The second everything made sense, the two of you were left scrambling, but as long as you were together everything felt okay.  Together, you always knew what to do, which was exactly why _‘When I Dance With You’_ by The Pains of Being Pure At Heart always brought a smile to your face.

 _And when I dance with you_  
I feel ok, feel ok  
Because I know just what to do

 _When I dance with you_  
Everyone else, anyone else  
Just lies out of view

 _And when I dance with you_  
I feel just like, feel just like  
There's nothing I can do  
But move the way you move

 

**Damian Wayne**

<https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a7fzkqLozwA>

You had played a massive part in softening Damian over the years.  He was still sharp and prickly, snappish and quick to respond to stupidity with scathing sarcasm, but he wasn’t actively looking for reasons and ways to insult people anymore.  He was actively trying to be better, simply because that’s what you deserved.  You always had deserved that, and always would.  To be entirely honest, he felt _happier_ with you there, either as a friend or significant other.

You were happier as well.  You had someone you knew would always be there, even with your freakish family history and your powers that were freakish even compared to your family.  You were comfortable with yourself, getting a handle on your powers, making peace with your family’s past, _separating_ yourself from your parents.

The both of you just liked yourselves better when you were together.

 _I don't know what it is but I got that feeling (got that feeling)_  
Waking up in this bed next to you swear the room  
Yeah, it got no ceiling  
If we lay, let the day just pass us by  
I might get to too much talking  
I might have to tell you something

 _Damn, I like me better when I'm with you_  
I like me better when I'm with you  
I knew from the first time, I'd stay for a long time 'cause  
I like me better when  
I like me better when I'm with you


End file.
